Job & Family
by TigerLilyNoh
Summary: AU post 3x16: After Dean's exit, Sam and Ruby begin hunting Lilith. Without Dean by his side, Sam finds the world of hunting to not be as black & white as he once thought. By the time the brothers reunite, Sam is a very different person. The battle for Hell, Heaven, & the Apocalypse begins. In these odd times, the boys find themselves with new enemies, allies, and bedfellows.
1. Getting Back on Two Feet

Author's Note: I've taken down Job & Family for editing and will be posting the edited chapters as their ready. Major thanks to my beta-reader, Lastarael, for her incredible help with this massive project.

* * *

After Dean's death at Lilith's hands it only took a few days for Sam to find himself completely lost and alone. He'd convinced Bobby to bury Dean instead of performing the traditional hunter's pyre. It was a dishonor to his brother, but the finality of a pyre's embers was too much for him to take. Some small part of his mind whispered that maybe he could make a deal or find a way to bring his brother back, yet an attempt to deal with a Crossroads demon yielded nothing but a dead meatsuit and hurt feelings.

Without a better idea of how to save Dean, Sam quickly threw himself into drinking and his own despair. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. He needed to act, to lash out somehow at whatever he could. Yet in Bobby's house everything was stuck in a haunting routine. Unable to do anything for Dean, the old hunter resumed working the phones. Cases that Dean would never investigate kept trickling into various voicemail boxes. The wallpaper that Dean used to pick at as a child continued to peel from the walls. Everything around Sam dragged on in its sysphian sort of way, all the while taking care to not fill the hole that Dean's absence had created.

On some level Sam knew that Bobby loved him, but Bobby's all-too-easy acceptance of Dean's death had felt like a betrayal. Dean's death had only made Sam want to fight reapers, demons, fate, and any other creature or force in this cruel existence. But Bobby had seen enough death that what once were flames of rage were just the smoldering embers of an old hunter's familiar loss. Sam had been too hurt to see Bobby's sadness as anything more than resignation.

Lying awake in bed on the fifth night, he finally decided that he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to get away, to do something drastic. Sam quietly packed up his few belongs and descended the stairs, deftly avoiding the step that squeaked. As he walked toward the back door he stopped, debating whether to say goodbye to the man who'd been there for him when his own father hadn't. Part of him hated to leave the only family he had left in the world, but he couldn't stay and he didn't want Bobby to try talking him out of going.

Two weeks later he was in a rural little town he hadn't bothered to learn the name of, eager to find trouble just as much as demons. He'd barely slept or eaten in the past three days, too preoccupied chasing demonic omens, trying to find a fight. When he had finally located a promising contender, he didn't even bother to case the location and ran in without a strategic thought in his head.

Sam was drunkenly fighting—or more accurately being beaten by—two demons when Ruby swooped in and saved him. His nose, a rib, and his right pinky had been broken in the brawl, but he was too numb to feel it. When she offered him a hand up off the ground, he'd rolled away from her, pushing himself upright and further injuring his finger in the process. But he didn't care about the damage. He hadn't wanted her interference. He barely acknowledged her presence, let alone her help. After she tried to walk with him back to the Impala, he lashed out at her in anger.

It wasn't just the fact that she was wearing some innocent human; it was more that she had somehow managed to crawl out of Hell and Dean had not. She had proven it possible, no matter how difficult, and the fact that Dean hadn't done so himself made Sam's heart sink. That was the moment Sam began to wonder how far Dean's self-loathing reached. He wasn't sure if it was possible to save someone who was lost on that level. It was just another manifestation of Sam's inability to effect positive change.

Sam didn't bother voicing his fears about Dean to Ruby. Instead he decided to verbally attack her over the meatsuit. He'd never given much thought to the long-dead blonde woman she'd been riding the whole year prior. In all honesty, at that point he almost didn't care about the woman she was in at that moment. He hadn't been hunting since Dean's death and other people's problems just couldn't compete with his own pain for his attention. That didn't stop him from yelling at Ruby for it though. It was low-hanging fruit and he was too drunk and defeated to take any better shots at her. Ruby said nothing before she blinked away.

Two days later Ruby knocked on the door of the abandoned house where Sam had been squatting. Her new meatsuit had been brain-dead when she set up residence and Sam was too thrown by the gesture to stop her from entering the house. He wasn't mentally prepared to deal with people, let alone someone who was clearly acting with purpose—a characteristic that he'd somehow lost in his anger and depression. Once inside she began her pitch of how she could help him get revenge against Lilith. Sam was so confused by a mixture of loss, intoxication, and surprise that he couldn't bring himself to fight her. He resigned himself to accept her help, even if it meant her company. In exchange for sobriety and something resembling respect she would teach him how to hone his psychic powers and help with the hunt for Lilith.

It took some time for them to learn each other's boundaries. She had initially pushed him too hard, once invoking and promptly disrespecting Dean's memory at the wrong time. He had tried to punch her in the face, but she'd blinked out of the way before sweeping his legs. Ruby was kneeling on his neck before he'd had time to react, though she released him before he'd passed out and apologized before he could settle on his counterattack.

In general, Sam understood that she was trying to help him, so he made an effort to begrudgingly get along with her, but it was a challenge most of the time. It seemed like Sam's mood changed every couple minutes during the first few days as he tried to cope with his new sobriety-induced lucidity. He was mostly caught between sorrow and rage, quietly half-listening to instructions one moment only to be shouting the next.

Ruby tried to be patient, but occasionally she'd snap back at him or stop one of his fits by physically overpowering him. She tried to give Sam his space, hoping that he'd find a way to pull himself out of his grief, but on their fifth day together she realized how big a mistake that had been.

* * *

 **Trigger Warning: Suicide attempt. You can skip down to the end of this section to bypass it.**

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She had found Sam lying on the bathroom floor, two rough slits and at least one hesitation cut down the each arm. His shirt and boxers had absorbed much of the blood, preventing a puddle from forming. Ruby was just a fuzzy image rushing toward him, emitting muffled yells as he lost consciousness.

Sam woke up slowly. His vision took too long to adjust to the afternoon light coming in through the large grime-coated windows. His bandaged forearms itched and tingled. When he attempted to lift his arms into view he felt a pressure on his biceps and across his chest. After a moment of flexing he discovered that he was tied to a bed. Large straps crossed his chest, waist, and legs. Looking around he realized he was in one of the house's bedrooms. There was an IV pole supporting two bags of blood, which fed into his right elbow. To his left he saw Ruby sitting in a chair reading a celebrity magazine, looking bored beyond measure. The sound of Sam's tiny movements were enough to catch her attention.

"If you're gonna go wasting your blood you should really let me know your type. It took me almost five minutes to find some O Negative for you." Her words may have been a slight tease, but her expression was anything but smiling.

Sam didn't know how to respond. He hadn't asked to be saved, but having even a moment or two of a second chance made his attempt scare him a little. What if he had succeeded? It'd be done, and while that had held appeal a few hours ago, right then his conviction faltered. His perceived escape would've likely led him to join his brother, undoing Dean's sacrifice. It wouldn't have ended the pain; it just would've changed the scenery. He didn't know what he wanted, really.

"Anyway, I'm not letting you kill yourself—" she began, but Sam cut her off.

"Why?" he asked weakly. He didn't look at her, instead opting to examine the paint peeling off the ceiling above him.

"I have worked too long and hard to save your stupid ass and I am not about to let you throw yourself into the pit because you're too consumed with your own self-pity to lift a single finger for your own wellbeing." Ruby's tone grew livid. "I am not going to stay to watch you die—and we both know I came back the last time I said that. So if you are so committed to offing yourself, then you're gonna need to get your shit together enough to kill me first. At least then you won't be such a sorry excuse—"

"Okay," Sam said, turning to finally look at her. He should've been insulted, but he couldn't feel anything beyond overwhelming sadness. It took him by surprise to recognize not just the pain itself, but also what it was doing to him. He was helpless to it in a way that scared him. "What do I do now?"

The vulnerability in his voice surprised Ruby. She'd been expecting him to hurl insults or whine, not to simply concede. Her posture had unwittingly become hostile. She exhaled, consciously relaxing her upper body.

"You're not thinking clearly," she answered in a more gentle tone. "Until you do, if you want to start recovering, you need to really listen to me. You need to start reengaging with the world and I can't drag you back into it if you're fighting me. Try to focus yourself on something other than your own suffering, hone your powers, and then we can start going after Lilith—but I am not helping you hunt down Lilith if there's even a sliver of a chance you're just looking to off yourself!"

Sam nodded silently.

"Also, you might be calm and seeking redemption now, but I don't trust you not to try again. You lost your autonomy privileges. I'm following you everywhere until I think you're ready."

Sam frowned and furrowed his brow slightly. "I'm human. I still need to use the bathroom." It was more of a question than a statement.

"I'll turn my back," she replied.

One corner of his mouth couldn't help but curl up, until it dawned on him that she wasn't joking.

* * *

 **End of suicide trigger. Recap: Ruby is helping Sam prepare to hunt Lilith after Dean's death.**

After a week under Ruby's watchful eye, Sam's strength had returned and his mood had mostly stabilized. He was far from happy, but at least he was self-aware enough now to avoid random bouts of rage. He was also crying less frequently, but he wasn't sure if that was because he was improving or simply because he hated crying while Ruby just stood across the room staring at him. He didn't find joy in things the way he had before Dean died, but in general doing the training Ruby offered left him feeling something slightly resembling accomplishment.

One morning while Sam was finishing a quick breakfast consisting solely of a single, flavorless nutritional bar he spotted Ruby holding their jackets. It was still too warm and humid for any reasonable person to actually want to wear an extra layer of clothing, unless of course there was rain. He checked out a window at the dark grey sky, then reflexively glanced up to see if the ceiling was leaking.

"No training today," she told him when she saw his confused expression. "We're going out. There's an errand I need to run in the city." She left unsaid that she still didn't want to leave him alone for the better part of a day.

"What kind of errand?" Sam asked skeptically.

"I need some components to work a locator spell on Lilith's minions. We're nowhere near ready for a fight, but we should be monitoring their movements, doing our homework."

"I don't suppose we're going to stop at a grocery store for some chicken feet or anything? I could go for some real food."

Ruby smiled a bit at his comment. It was the first time since his suicide attempt that Sam had expressed a desire for anything. She hoped that meant he was returning to his old, assertive self.

"I only need a few items from a hoodoo shop, but after that we can get whatever you want."

"We're just going to walk into a hoodoo shop?" he asked, unconsciously showing his hunter upbringing. Ruby's smile grew.

"Of course Sam. I'm a witch."

* * *

The drive to Lafayette took three hours. Sam refused to let Ruby drive Dean's—his—car and Ruby refused to let Sam drive at all, so they stole a maroon '69 Pontiac GTO. Sam didn't express a preference about what kind of car they took, but Ruby explained that it was important to enjoy the little things when possible. Turning down an alley in what was clearly the poorer and more dangerous part of the city, Sam wondered whether it would have been wiser to pick a more subtle car. Ruby parked in the alley and turned to Sam before they got out.

"There's an etiquette to this whole sort of thing," she warned him. "I don't want you going in there thinking and acting like a hunter because that'll be a huge pain in the ass at the very least."

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? I don't know the secret handshake."

"If anyone asks, you're my apprentice. Just follow my lead—I doubt anyone'll even talk to you. Just don't start picking up random objects. It'll make you look like an idiot," she explained, causing Sam to frown briefly while rolling his eyes.

They exited the car and walked about a block before reaching a dingy cafe. There was a name painted above the front door, but the text was illegibly faded. Every piece of wood had paint peeling off of it and there was so much rusted metal around that Sam began wondering when he had last gotten a tetanus shot.

An elderly black man sat in a bright yellow, flimsy, molded-plastic chair on the sidewalk in front of the cafe's entrance. He eyed them as they approached. Sam wondered just how unusual it was for that neighborhood to get a pair like them: a tiny, white brunette in leather pants and jacket, and a 6'5" white guy in plaid with shaggy hair. Sam tried to slouch, making himself as small and non-threatening as possible, but Ruby marched forward with visible purpose.

"Can I help you?" the man asked while sitting up in his chair. He had a thick accent that Sam couldn't place.

Ruby stopped a few paces from the man, and Sam stopped behind her, unsure of what else to do. She replied to the man in a language that Sam did not recognize, making his eyebrows rise slightly in surprise. He quickly changed his expression to something more neutral, hoping that the old man wouldn't realize just how out of his element Sam really was. Luckily, the older man seemed to be distracted enough trying to recover from his own shock.

After Ruby said a sentence or two, the old man started smiling. He responded in the same language, which was almost certainly his native tongue. The speed and confidence of speaking a more comfortable language made the man seem warmer and a few years younger.

After politely listening to them chatting for several minutes, Sam gave up trying to understand what they were saying. He began looking around the cafe and neighborhood in more detail. There was very little English writing anywhere. He recognized some French, but he didn't know enough to gain any great insight. Most of the text was neither English nor French, but some non-romantic language. The products in the cafe were foreign brands.

The man began pointing down the street. Sam realized that he was giving Ruby directions. She expressed some sort of appreciation and then waved for Sam to follow her as she started down the street.

"Sorry about that," Ruby apologized. "Everyone thinks you're a narc or a hunter until you show 'em you're one of them. That was actually easier than I thought it'd be."

"What language was that?"

"Dagbani. It's from northern Ghana."

"You speak Ghanan?"

"It's not 'Ghanan.' I speak Dagbani and Akan—there are several distinct languages in Ghana," Ruby replied, but realized that that didn't lessen Sam's confusion at all. "I was born around there."

Sam was so shocked by her statement that he nearly tripped over some uneven pavement. Abstractly he knew that demons used to be humans, but it had never crossed his mind where any given demon may have been born or lived. The realization created a wave of new questions, which overwhelmed him. Before he could voice any of them a thought came to the forefront and his stomach ached slightly.

He knew nothing about Ruby. She had entered his life over a year ago, saved him countless times, put up with all sorts of bullshit from him lately, and the only things he knew about her were her name, that she was a witch, and now that she was born near Ghana…. It occurred to him that Ruby probably wasn't her real name. He felt guilty for knowing so little about her. At this point she was the closest thing he had to a friend and he didn't even think of her as a person. Sam's mood darkened as they stopped in front of an unmarked door.

Ruby knocked five times and waited. After a few seconds there was the sound of a heavy bolt sliding. The door opened inward to reveal a little girl looking up at them. Spotting Sam's towering form she let out a mousey squeak and retreated through the shop.

The store was dark, dusty, and tiny. It only had two five-foot-long aisles before reaching the small counter. The walls were lined with shelves containing books, trinkets, and spell components. There was no natural light, only oil lamps and candles. Sam wondered how all these probably rare goods hadn't been destroyed in a fire long ago.

Behind the counter were two teenage girls and the little girl who had opened the door. The three of them had dark complexions and looked confused by their customers who were clearly not from around there. Ruby stepped forward and began speaking in Dagbani again, but one of the teenagers shook her head and replied in something that sounded an awful lot like French to Sam. Ruby nodded and replied in the same not-quite-French. After a few more minutes of chatting with the girls, they'd established a sort of rapport. Sam could've even sworn that Ruby whispered something before the girls looked at him and started giggling.

By the time Ruby had actually given the list of needed items to one of the teens, Sam's eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting. He began looking around the shop only to realize that this whole time there had been an elderly woman sitting in a lumpy cloth chair in the corner of the room behind them. Her frizzy hair was white and loose, hanging around eyes that were visibly clouded over with cataracts. She had been staring in Ruby's direction, listening to the interaction at the counter, but then she turned to look straight at Sam's face.

For what seemed like the millionth time that day Sam found himself surprised and confused. He was pretty sure that he hadn't made any noise that would have drawn her attention. But more than that, she was looking him in the eyes, which on him were half a foot higher than a man of average height. If she was in fact blind, Sam had no doubt that she was a witch using some sort of alternate sense.

The girl and teen returned from the back store room with about a dozen items. Ruby inspected several of them carefully before giving her approval. The total came to just over $9,000 and Sam only briefly dwelled on what Ruby might have done to get the massive roll of cash she drew from of her purse. One of the teens double-counted the money. Meanwhile, the other teen put everything in individual plastic-sealed bags, wrapped them in a nice cushion of paper, and put them in two plastic grocery bags. Ruby thanked them, grabbed the bags, and turned to leave the store.

"Your kind," the old woman said as she turned back to face Ruby. She spoke with a French accent and her voice had a quiet rattle to it. "They kill. They steal. Never seen one pay. Not dèmon."

The girls behind the counter looked suddenly terrified. Ruby stopped walking and turned to face the woman.

"I kill and I steal," Ruby corrected the woman's misconception. "Where do you think that kind of money comes from—"

"But you don't here," the woman interjected. Ruby looked a little confused with where this conversation was going. Sam was also unsure, but unlike most of the last hour or so at least they were speaking English and he could begin to understand the interaction. "Dèmon, you are a special one. No shame for that."

The old woman turned to look at Sam. "And this one, oh you! Boy who dreams of tomorrow." Sam's stomach lurched. He didn't know if he could convince himself that that was some idiom for optimist—he certainly didn't feel optimistic—or if she was a psychic, able to read him like Missouri had years ago. "You poor thing. You can't see. Your dreams too clouded by pain. You only dream of the past, loss, and death." The expression of pity on her face mixed with some emotion that Sam couldn't place before she continued. "All that grief, you can't see through it, you can't see the future. Can't see what you need to know."

"And what's that?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"You will be happy again." She smiled, creasing her face with dozens of wrinkles. Sam's lips quivered slightly and his heart pounded anxiously. He wasn't sure he believed her. It felt like happiness was too much to hope for and he was almost pained by the prospect. He wanted to be happy, but each time he started to make progress he was taken back by a flash of guilt. How could he ever be happy knowing that Dean was in Hell for him?

But maybe this woman could really see his future. Sam couldn't think of a reason for her to lie to him, but he knew nothing about her motivations or allegiances. She was a witch after all… though Ruby was also a witch and seemed to be sincere in trying to help him.

The woman also knew that he wasn't having visions anymore. He hadn't told anyone that he had visions of Dean being torn apart by the hellhounds for a week leading up to his death. Sam had hoped that it was just his fear and imagination. Before those he hadn't had a vision since Azazel was killed. He had assumed that it was over. But then every detail of his visions matched Dean's death perfectly. It had crushed Sam to think that he ignored the warnings again, just as he had before Jessica's death. And now his dreams were only nightmares fueled by grief, forcing him to relive Dean's death, just like Jessica.

The old woman said something to one of the girls, who nodded and rushed into the back room. Sam watched the slightly tense scene, unaware of exactly what was happening. Ruby waited for a few moments, then gave up, stepping closer to the old woman. It looked like she was about to say something when the girl returned. The girl ducked around the counter and handed a small wooden case to the old woman, who in turn extended it in offering to Ruby.

"You take this, from me. You will need help. This is the best I can give."

Ruby slowly took the case, sliding back the lid to reveal several long thick needle-like tools made of bone, a tiny knife, and four vials of dark liquid. Her eyes widened visibly, but she seemed satisfied with the contents.

The old woman said something in that almost-French language to Ruby, who nodded back to her.

"It will rain soon," the old woman said as she tilted her head toward the door. "And you have a long walk back to your car."

With that serving as their instruction to leave, Sam and Ruby walked back out into the overcast daylight. Ruby handed the grocery bags off to Sam, but held the case to her chest. When they were half a block away from the shop Sam felt comfortable enough to talk.

"What is it?" He indicated the case by poking his elbow toward it.

"It's a perme set. It can be used for very powerful, long-term spells or wards." Her fingers unconsciously traced the edges on the case. "This is a really nice set, maybe a few hundred years old. The bone looked like it was treated incredibly well. I'd have to look at the inks—"

"Inks?"

"It's primarily for magical tattooing."

Sam raised an eyebrow and thought of the anti-possession tattoo on his chest. That hadn't required any sort of special tool made of bone. He didn't know what made him more uncomfortable, the idea that his anti-possession tattoo might be comparatively weak magic or that Ruby might just like the giant bone needles for tradition's sake. He turned his thoughts to other things.

"What language was that?" Sam asked.

"French Creole."

"Let me guess. This is your old neighborhood?"

"Yeah, sorta. I spent a lot of time in parts of the Caribbean and the Gulf Coast over the years. Some parts more than others, and some decades more than others."

"Anywhere really stand out as your stomping ground?"

"Haiti and Louisiana." Ruby didn't elaborate and Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to follow that line of questioning just yet.

"What did she say to you, right at the end?" he asked curiously.

Ruby hesitated slightly. "She told me that I need to protect you, no matter what."

Sam and Ruby stared uncertainly at each other for a moment as the first few drops of a coming storm fell around them.


	2. Learning to Get Along

During the drive back to the abandoned house, Sam watched the rain pound relentlessly on the marshland around the highway. The sky had darkened early due to the cloud cover and they were going through an area with almost no towns around to provide light pollution. He had decided to head south after leaving Bobby's to seek out some isolation and an ample supply of bourbon, but he now regretted his poor timing as hurricane season was beginning. The cracks in the roof where they were squatting had helped vent the heat on warmer days, but now things were getting rough and he hoped that the few belongings he had back at the house weren't being ruined by his lack of foresight.

After a lengthy search, Ruby had managed to find the one radio station in rural Louisiana that carried punk rock. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel along to Social Distortion's cover of Ring Of Fire, occasionally singing along to the chorus. She seemed to not even notice Sam was there. He was learning that when she wasn't trying to get something from another person she had no shame, for all the good and bad that carried with it. He admired how comfortable she was in her own skin—well, not her skin exactly.

The real problem was that she sometimes didn't notice what her behavior was doing to him. Case in point, that goddamn song. Before Dean had sold his soul, Sam would have happily listened to it, but after he found out about the deal metal, rock, and punk became much harder to listen to. It shouldn't have surprised him how many songs revolve around Hell and death, but on the drive down to Louisiana he realized that he couldn't listen to any of the music in the glovebox without crying. He tried to endure the music during their drive back from the magic shop, but it was hard after the comparatively long day. Reaching the end of his limits, Sam turned the radio off.

"I just can't—not right now," he managed, unwilling or unable to explain himself.

Sam didn't want to sound like he was apologizing because he wasn't really, but he did feel a little sad when Ruby stopped doing the car equivalent of dancing. Generally, her carefree moments comforted him by making her seem more human or at least they provided something to break up the monotony. He didn't want to discourage it.

"Okay…" she said, more confused and curious than offended. "Just that song or do you want a break from music altogether?"

She was trying to gauge his emotional state. He'd been mostly silent since she had told him that the old witch thought it was vital to keep him safe. Ruby couldn't tell if he was depressed or just made uncomfortable by the witch's unexplained interest in his safety. It was probably both. As much as Sam seemed to be improving recently, he still had an air of indifference about him that indicated a moderate depression even when he was at his best. She had hoped that stopping to get some food that wasn't from a can would help him be more assertive or indulgent, but the interaction with the witch had really thrown him for a loop.

She decided to test the waters. "Something on your mind?"

Sam tapped his foot absentmindedly in an almost nervous fashion. Something was clearly bothering him. The silence stretched and Ruby began to question whether the remaining hour of the drive was going to be that uncomfortable.

"She thought I was important," he muttered, then subtly shook his head. "I don't want to be important. I just want to kill Lilith and… I don't know. Maybe I'm done hunting."

"You serious? A hunter who wants to stop saving people. Now I've seen everything."

"It's not—I mean... I don't want to be singled out like that. She has to have something in mind, something I do. I just want to avenge Dean and get out. No more saving the day. I don't want that kind of responsibility. I want to be normal."

"I hate to break it to you, but you got singled out a long time ago. You don't get to be normal. I mean first of all you're a hunter, which means you're just a few degrees off from survivalist or UFO-chaser-crazy, but you're also one of Azazel's kids, which puts you in a league all by yourself… literally, I guess."

He scowled at the thought. "You're not helping."

"Yes, I am. You're just too caught up in feeling sorry for yourself to notice what I'm getting at. You might be a freak and maybe life is gonna drop a lot of shit at your feet, but you aren't alone. I'm trying to fucking help you." Her patience wore thin quickly when it was obvious that Sam had no appreciation of how big a gesture it was for her to be there at all.

For most of the first year helping them, Sam and Dean had been under the delusion that they were using her like she was disposable. They never bothered to think that she might just be knowingly cooperating apart from some manipulation or reluctant alliance. Sam's current in-it-alone mentality had annoyed the hell out of her. She wanted to turn the radio back on in order to piss him off, but he spoke before she could reach for the dial.

"Why are you helping me?" Sam's voice was more suspicious than self-pitying. He'd asked her that early on. She had given him some bullshit line about liking tall guys before stealing his french fries and changing the subject.

"You know me, I have a thing for tall—"

"I'm serious, Ruby. Why did you even find me in the first place?" He tensed and glared at her frustration. It seemed like she had just been trying to cheer him up and maybe he'd be able to coax more out of her, but she had just reverted to her defensive, snarky self.

"I was curious." Ruby didn't elaborate.

"You were curious. Fine." Sam was done with the whole conversation if she was going to be that way. They could both act like children. He turned to look out the side window and ran his fingertips over the glass. As he moved, his long sleeve fell down a few inches revealing the thin bandage on his wrist.

Ruby glanced at him and saw the bandage in the window's reflection. The sight made her stomach turn sour with guilt. For two weeks Sam had been completely vulnerable to her. She'd literally taken the door off the bathroom at one point and he had just endured the humiliation. She had known so much about him even before they had met. But she had barely given him any insight into herself, let alone made a real showing of trust in him. Every time he asked about her she'd shut him down. It wasn't fair and she knew it. Normally that wouldn't bother her, but this was Sam and she was inclined to give him an unreasonable amount of accommodation. Anyway, she couldn't just let their borderline friendship wither to death because she always took without giving in return. She let out a slow sigh of resignation.

"After becoming a demon, I managed to get up to Earth for a few good runs. I'd usually get to be topside for a few decades at a time. Then my pass would run out, I'd piss off a higher up, or there'd be some emergency, and I'd be dragged back down." Ruby's face didn't reveal any emotions, but that didn't stop Sam from staring with undivided attention. She continued.

"When you're down there, all you want to do is find a way back up. It's incredibly rare that you can sneak out, so most of the time you need to be under some contract or given orders by a superior that authorizes your way out. So, when I heard that there was a massive recruiting drive for Azazel's army I figured it'd be an easy ticket out."

"You were part of Azazel's army?"

"Yeah. I came out of the Devil's Gate with the rest of them. The army is actually where I heard about you. We were all poised, ready to rush Earth, waiting, and what else are you going to do but gossip? There was this rumor about a special human with demon blood, chosen to lead the armies of Hell in conquest of Earth. He or she would be waiting for us on the other side.

"A lot of demons were pretty pissed by the idea of following a human, even if you did have some demon blood in your veins. Granted, it did kind of beg the question of why. Why is it so important to have a human lead? We have some of the best military minds in history who're still halfway sane in the Pit, but we were going to follow some kid. It didn't really make sense."

It hadn't occurred to Sam how little sense Azazel's plan made until she mentioned it. There was no clear reason why he would have made a good commander. Even with the psychic visions and his experience as a hunter, what made anyone think that he could be a leader or control an army? Maybe Azazel had planned to make him a puppet, but then why did he need Sam at all? The demons already saw Azazel as a leader. But Sam's musings were cut off by Ruby continuing her story.

"And when we got out you never came for us. So many of the others hated you for it. They cursed your name and rallied behind Lilith. They were so angry that they got fucked by the little shit who they were supposed to obey, who helped kill Azazel and close the Devil's Gate.

"But I wasn't mad. I never even wanted to fight in a war to begin with. It was just my ticket out of the fire for a few months or years. Instead of being upset, I was curious about the guy chosen by Hell or destiny or whatever, who knocked all the pieces off the board. You rebelled against the will of Hell itself and it hasn't even hit you how big a deal that is. I wanted to help you because that thing—that—" She struggled to find the right word "—that spark in you is worth protecting."

An uncomfortable silence grew between them, so she said, "Okay, now that that is over with I'm turning the radio back on. And if it bothers you, you can ride in the trunk for a while."

Sam didn't know how to respond. This was the first time that they'd had a meaningful conversation, even if it was a little one-sided. It was a lot to take in, both factually and as a new step in their budding friendship. He hadn't considered what the demons from Azazel's army had thought of him. He had just assumed that they blindly followed authority and that's why they had swarmed to Lilith in his absence. It hadn't occurred to him that they may have felt betrayed or angry at him personally. Let alone the thought that one of them saw some value in him, beyond the prophetic hype, and wanted to nurture it.

"Is it still there?" Sam asked while trying to act nonchalant.

"What?"

"That... spark. Do you still see it in me?"

"Of course. You wouldn't be such a pain in my ass if it wasn't."

A small chuckle escaped Sam. "I live to keep you on your toes," he teased.

"Sounds like a deal."

* * *

While in Hell a month earlier, Ruby had heard rumors about Sam surviving Lilith's attack by being immune to some of her powers. Azazel's special child had been a topic of interest from the first moment his campaign was announced in the higher tiers of Hell, but after Sam's not-remotely-narrow escape from Lilith the gossip grew exponentially. Speculating about the nature and limits of Sam's abilities was common among the demons who weren't under Lilith's command. A few of the more liberal demons who openly hated Lilith even started referring to Sam as The Boy King as a slight against her. It was the closest thing to political intrigue Hell had seen in thousands of years—local time, which ran roughly 120 times faster than on Earth.

While in Hell, Ruby spent most of her time with the other Maji, the witch-centric demon caste who empowered covens and witches in exchange for their souls. Once a demon learned the basics, they were assigned a caste based on their background, skills, and other characteristics. Becoming a Maji was the obvious choice for Ruby since she had sold her soul to become a witch in the first place. That positioning in Hell gave her a surprising gift during her latest visit. Surrounded by demons who knew all things magic, it was easy to learn all about the powers that Sam would likely manifest. She took diligent mental notes while waiting for her opportunity to escape back to the surface, and escape ended up being much easier than she had expected.

For the most part she had a record of good behavior with her demonic superiors. She had even volunteered to fight in Azazel's army, which was rare for a Maji to do. Recently it was only Lilith who really had it out for her, having lined up a fair bit of torture while casting her back into Hell. But Lilith was on Earth and in her absence the more pragmatic minds had to make sure the Hell machine kept running.

Lilith's campaign on Earth was consuming more demons than anyone had imagined. She was primarily pulling demons from the Torquean caste, who tortured human souls into new demons, and the Cruciare caste, who existed primarily to wreak havoc on Earth. Her draw on the manpower needed to maintain the everyday functions of Hell hit the bottom line enough to worry the Crossroads demons, and the lawyers of Hell had never been a force to be taken lightly. Hundreds of demons were temporarily reassigned to other functions and many of the demons being punished were granted reprieves with the prospect of earning an outright pardon for good behavior.

Ruby was a bit surprised to be given a reprieve for what was essentially treason, but eventually she understood why. After ten years local time in Hell, a middle-ranking Crossroads demon asked Ruby to come with her. Being of lower rank and on probation, she agreed. The two of them traveled to one of the million unremarkable corners of Hell and the Crossroads demon turned to her. They were alone, which was an impressive feat in a place as busy as Hell.

"How do you feel about Lilith?" the Crossroads demon asked. Ruby couldn't tell if that was a trap to test her loyalty or if the Crossroads caste was up to something more than damage control.

"I hate her," she replied flatly. "Nothing would make me happier than casting her in white hot iron and dropping her in the Mariana Trench for eternity."

The Crossroad demon smiled softly and then kicked Ruby through an invisible crack in the ragged stone wall next to them. The next thing she knew, Ruby found herself as a smoke cloud thirty miles west of Vancouver.

* * *

With the insight gained from the other Maji as a foundation, Ruby and Sam had started working on exploring and controlling his powers. The primary focus was on developing powers that would help in fights against demons. Early in the training Ruby played Sam's sparring partner while the risks were minimal. He would try to prevent her from smoking out or he would try to force her from the meatsuit. He was even able to move her, body and all, on occasion. When they were ready to attempt an exorcism they had to find a random demon to trap and practice on. After two days of migraines and nosebleeds, Sam successfully performed the exorcism with powers alone.

He'd been feeling a little better each day that he was exercising his powers. They were a welcome distraction from his depression and he felt more disciplined than he'd been in months, maybe years. It made him feel stronger, but he tried not to let it go to his head. That wasn't too hard since Ruby kept his ego in check with nearly constant ribbing.

Almost five weeks after taking up residence in that dingy, little house in the middle of nowhere, Sam had a vision. It was the first time in almost two months that he hadn't dreamt of Dean's death. Even though vision dreams took a toll that common nightmares didn't, upon waking he was grateful that he hadn't been forced to watch his brother be shredded into cold ribbons of flesh. He hoped that maybe things were looking up for him.

In the vision, he saw Lilith sitting in what looked like a hotel's executive suite meeting with several other demons. Her meatsuit was an attractive blonde woman, not dissimilar to Ruby's first vessel, in a simple white dress. She was instructing one of the demon underlings to relocate at least half of his followers to the Houston area. Once there they were to occupy the oldest holy ground until another group arrived with some precious cargo. After saying 'precious cargo' she smiled so broadly that it sent a shudder down Sam's spine, jolting him awake.

After discussing the new development, Sam and Ruby agreed that it was time to get on the road. Sam's powers were strong enough to give them an alternative to Ruby's knife in a fight against demons and it seemed like the clock had started running. Whatever Lilith was working at, it couldn't be left unchecked while they trained indefinitely. Having packed up the Impala, Ruby threw Sam the keys and he smiled so naturally that it made her heart beat a little harder in her chest.


	3. Choosing Battles

The drive to Houston only took seven hours in spite of bad weather that had caused horrible driving conditions. A tropical storm had rolled through a few days earlier and some of the smaller roads hadn't been completely cleared of debris. They found a motel on the edge of the city just after sunset.

Upon seeing their motel room, the first word that came to Sam's mind was 'classic.' It couldn't fairly be described as a throwback to the 1950's, but only because he was pretty sure that would require an homage or reference as opposed to simply not changing a thing in sixty years. The room was cheap in every sense of the word. And it filled him with a sense of nostalgia, like returning to any of the thousands of pay-by-the-hour homes he'd had growing up.

While Sam dug through his duffel bag looking for his pajama pants, Ruby started working on their demon tracking spell. She claimed the small, flimsy table in the corner of the room and unfolded a map of the greater Houston area on it. From there she started mixing powders in bowls, lighting candles, and placing raven bones in detailed patterns.

Only a small part of the preparation was finished by the time that Sam was about ready to climb in bed to sleep. The spell took a while to cast, but once cast it could be left active for hours. Every few minutes that the spell ran, the more accurately they would be able to locate any demons in the area depicted on the map used in the spell. Ruby figured that when Sam woke up in six hours, they would be able to know each city block that had a demon on it and possibly even how many individual demons.

She was particularly proud of that spell because it was designed so that it wouldn't even need to be channeled. She could just start it up and then spend the night however she wanted. As much as she felt that Sam was no longer a danger to himself, she didn't really want to leave him unguarded at night. If she went out looking for some fun, they couldn't put down salt lines without locking her out too. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad if she had something to look forward to outside their motel room, but starting a bar fight or joyriding in a stolen car wasn't as tempting when she knew the city was potentially crawling with Lilith's cronies.

Sam finished readying his gun on the side table between the two queen beds, then climbed under the sheets. Ruby was using a small wall-mounted lamp near the map, so he rolled onto his side, turning off the light closest to him. He tried to fall asleep, but was too distracted by the assorted sounds Ruby was making while she worked. He finally decided to say something when she started grinding reagents with a mortar and pestle.

He sat up slightly on one elbow. "Are you going to be grinding that all night?"

"Probably another ten minutes of grinding and then maybe fifteen of chanting. I'll try to start earlier in the night going forward. Well, either that or you can sleep a little later. It's not like we have a rigid schedule."

Sam rolled his eyes, but it was too dark to be seen—not that Ruby could tell since she had her back to him anyway. "How long does that spell take to prepare anyway? You've been at it for over two hours already."

"It's a good two or three hours depending on component quality and other factors. That's really not so bad. I might be able to refine it down, but not for a while." She emptied the contents of the mortar into a small brass bowl before refilling the mortar with whole dried petals. "Proper preparation of components is vital to the success of spells and rituals. You'd be surprised how many witches buy pre-made mats or cut corners and it bites them in the ass later. I swear half of all renegade constructs are the result of someone not rehydrating their wolfsbane the night before." She let out an annoyed or amused huff, probably recalling some sort of story from years past.

"Constructs?" Sam was more familiar with magical jargoon than most people, but he was coming to understand just how much there was that he didn't know.

"Think golems—well, any animated minion really. Anyway, my point is that patience is a virtue that you need to pull off the big stuff."

Sam stifled a chuckle, making Ruby turn to stare at him.

"Sorry, demon talking about virtue. I know, I know. I'm a racist." He raised his hands in feigned surrender and then layback down to try sleeping again.

* * *

Sam woke up to find Ruby leaning against the wall next to the map-covered table, looking down at the results. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and she chewed on her lower lip. She was scowling at the map.

"We have a problem."

Sam got out of bed and sleepily shuffled to the table. Tiny glowing dots marked too many locations on the map. Most of them were stationary, but a few crept along streets and highways. The two moving along southbound 45 were moving fast enough to cause a very short tail of light to form behind them. In general they were clustered in groups and none of them were at a church.

"At last count there were 27 demons in the greater Houston area," she explained. "They seem to be moving in groups. And don't ask me where this holy site is."

Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his messy hair in exasperation. They could fight a few demons, but even if only a fifth of them were working together under Lilith's command he and Ruby could quickly find themselves overwhelmed. And if they somehow managed to get a few broken away from the herd, all it would take was one distress call during a fight and they would have maybe a dozen demons teleporting in on them.

Not that it necessarily mattered how many demons were around if they had no idea where the holy site was located. The two of them were there to stop some sort of transaction and if they couldn't find the meeting location, then there wasn't much sense in sticking their necks out. They both knew that they weren't invincible. Their failed assassination of Lilith a few months earlier had proven that thoroughly. So neither of them was pushing for a poorly-weighted battle of Thermopylae proportions without good cause. They had to fight smart.

* * *

After going through his standard morning routine, Sam started researching possible old holy sites in the area. He sat on his bed with the laptop resting on his crossed legs. They had agreed to leave the tracking spell running on the table for as long as it still flickered with activity. Eventually the spell would fizzle out, but they figured there was no harm in letting it run its course even if it wasn't being watched at that moment.

He had been researching for about a half hour when Ruby opened the door to the motel room. She sat down on the edge of the unused second queen bed and began digging through the bag of fast food she was holding. After scrounging around in the bag for a few seconds, she pulled out a plastic container of salad and a fork, which she handed off to Sam. She then withdrew one large french fries, one large seasoned curly fries, and a BBQ chicken sandwich for herself. Eating five french fries in a single bite, Ruby watched Sam consider the chicken in his salad before carefully eating around it.

Ruby stopped eating, but didn't put down the carton of fries. "Don't tell me you're a vegetarian?"

"No." His eyebrows scrunched together, then he tilted his head slightly and shrugged. "Not 100%. I just don't like to eat meat that often."

He didn't feel like getting into that conversation. When he was a kid his dad had frequently called meat-heavy meals 'manly' and discouraged Sam from eating meatless food. The excuse had always been that John had wanted his kids well-fed and strong, but Sam never felt weak after changing his diet at Stanford. When he started hunting again with Dean, he was determined not to revert back to childhood habits on that point. A largely vegetarian diet was going to be a surviving characteristic of the new and independent Sam, though he would occasionally grab a burger of solidarity with Dean if his older brother needed a little extra comfort. Now that he'd been traveling with Ruby he had wondered when or if she would bring it up.

"It's not like about the whole killing-animals thing is it?" she asked skeptically.

"What difference does it make to you?" Sam countered a little defensively.

"You kill things, basically professionally. Some chickens are really gonna be your line in the sand?" She smiled, either at him or the false equivalence. He could see the irony even if it was superficial.

"Most of the things I kill are already dead."

"That chicken's already dead." She leaned forward to give the chicken pieces a predatory glance. "But if you're that committed to your conviction, my sandwich could relieve you of that moral burden."

He passed her the four strips of chicken breast. "You're a saint." He was relieved that she was dropping the subject so easily.

"Don't you forget it." She spoke between bites in a way that distinctly reminded him of Dean. The memory of any of the thousands of times Dean had spoken with a mouth full of cheeseburger hit Sam a little too hard. "An'way, d'you fin' anything?"

"I'm not sure exactly where our geographical boundaries are for the holy site search or if the type or scale of religion matters…. So, I don't have the absolute answer, but I have a few possibilities," he explained while pulling up a few windows on his laptop and skimming through the results. "The oldest church in the area is St. Mary's in Galveston built in 1847. There's a Spanish mission a bit further away that's older. But if we're going for the oldest place where there was any sort of religious activity, then we're looking at the locations of the Akosisa villages."

"Natives?"

"Yup."

Ruby popped a few fries in her mouth while she considered the problem at hand. After finishing her bite, she commented, "They never make it simple. So you wanna flip a coin on whether Lilith's flunkies are feeling Spanish or going local? Anything stand out in the research?"

"The Akosisans used cannibalism in some of their religious practices."

His observation made her eyebrows rise, undoubtedly imagining the potential boon that would give a spell, ritual, or any other display of unholy theatrics. "Do you think that'd make it more appealing for demons or do you think they want big, obvious churches?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, having no better insight into the mind of demons than the demon in the room.

Her shoulders slumped slightly as she went back to her curly fries. "Looks like we're gonna have to watch all of them." She scowled at a curly fry, then muttered, "This is gonna be a long day."

* * *

That evening, Ruby entered the motel room to find Sam on his bed making salt shells. He glanced up when she came in and noticed faint shadows under her eyes. Before he could say anything she said, "You didn't tell me that St. Mary's is a basilica."

"I guess I didn't. Does that make a difference?" he asked, then remembered who he was talking to. He put down the shell packing tools, and turned to face her more directly.

"Basilica's sometimes have relics." Ruby smiled at a thought. "St. Mary's had a piece of a saint."

" _Had_? Don't tell me—"

Her smile turned into a mischievous grin. "Do you realize how much punch a little saint corpse can add to some spells? Anyway, it was in an ornate box. Nobody's even gonna notice it's gone." When Sam just stared at her, she continued, "They weren't even using it. It'd be a crime not to take it."

He sighed slowly and decided to just change the subject. "Did you get all of the alarm wards placed?"

"Yeah." She reached into her pocket and withdrew seven glass spheres of different colors. Each sphere was linked to a different possible holy site and would emit a humming sound if a demon entered a preset area that had Ruby designated while casting the spell. The whole process had taken around four hours. She teleported to a location, found a secluded area to cast the spell, and left without looking for trouble. "I sealed the ward bowls in tupperware so we won't have shit falling in and messing up the spells. They should stay active as long as nobody finds them and takes 'em apart."

* * *

The next few hours were spent in a cloud of quiet tension. They couldn't figure out a good way to prepare any further with the limited information they had. There was no way of knowing how many demons they might have to face, which location they would end up at, or what exactly they were going to do once they got there. Both of them tried to rest as much as possible while being ready to spring into action on a moment's notice. It reminded Sam of a stakeout, but he wasn't confined to the Impala.

Ruby had opted to lay down on the unused queen bed. It was true that demons didn't sleep, but they could become fatigued under some circumstances. She had performed eight moderately difficult spells in under 24 hours and was starting to feel it. There was only a finite amount of power she could easily draw from and she had overdone it, straining herself slightly in the process. She could still use magic if it was necessary, but it wouldn't be as powerful or reliable as if she was well-rested.

Sam had readied a variety of weapons and tools that might be useful, then opted to search online for any demonic omens on a national level. He found way too many omens to even know where to begin, so he closed his laptop. He looked over at Ruby lying on the other bed and couldn't help but feel a little concerned.

It hadn't ever occurred to him that demons could get tired. He, his dad, and Dean had always seen demons as relentless forces that could only be confronted with confinement, exorcism, or destruction. The truth was that everything was turning out to be more complex than he had once believed. In a way it made sense. If demons had a limitless source of power then surely they would be doing a lot more damage on Earth. He would have found that to be a comforting thought, that Lilith's forces and power weren't infinite, but two against however-many hundred or thousands rounded off still seemed like impossible odds.

"Would it make you feel better if I shut my eyes?" Ruby asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I could pretend to be sleeping."

Sam huffed a small sigh and his lips curled slightly at the offer. It was surprisingly thoughtful of her, but it shouldn't be necessary. "I don't need you to pretend to be human."

"You look like someone killed your puppy."

"I'm not used to you being…." His mouth formed around words that he didn't voice as he struggled to find a diplomatic end to the sentence.

"Weak?" Ruby offered as the word he was looking for.

He didn't deny it. He glanced over at her with an almost apologetic expression on his face, then leaned his head back against the headboard of his bed. "The first time I saw you, you killed three demons." The memory nearly made him smile. "You set the bar kind of high."

Ruby brushed off his current concern. "You've seen me get beaten down before."

"Yeah, but this is different. I get that your body can be damaged or you can get exorcised, but that you—like smoke-cloud you—could get messed up…. That's a new one."

He suddenly felt self-conscious and wanted to stop the conversation before it ventured into any other awkward territory. Getting up, he walked into the bathroom to splash some water on his face, and wondered how much longer they'd have to wait.

* * *

About two hours later, the green sphere started humming. Demons had just entered St. Mary's, and according to the dim lights on the barely functional map there were four of them. It was a thirty-minute drive to reach the basilica, so Ruby teleported directly there to monitor the situation until Sam arrived. When he got there, he parked a block away from the rear of the church and approached as quietly as possible on foot. As he entered the church's garden courtyard, Ruby appeared next to him. He was only briefly startled, then looked around quickly to make sure that no one was outside with them.

"The second group arrived a few minutes ago. Seven demons total," Ruby immediately told him. He was confused because in the pale light he could've sworn that she was grinning in spite of just giving him bad news.

"There's a but, isn't there?" he asked cautiously.

"They're fucking up their ritual and they don't even know it." Ruby was now visibly delighted. "It's a ritual for sure. Looks like they're just preparing some components for a future spell, but they don't have a Maji or even a witch. They're going off some written instructions and screwing up all the subtle stuff. The best part…." She paused for a second to add a little suspense. "They need the relic I stole this afternoon and none of them thought to check that it was still in the chest."

Sam put his hand over his mouth, which was turning into a reflexive smile. He was trying not to laugh, but it was made difficult by Ruby bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. They couldn't let their guard down just because the demons were apparently incompetent. Sam and Ruby were still outnumbered if a direct fight broke out.

"Do you know what they're at least trying to do?" he asked, trying to regain some feeling of professionalism.

"Based on the instructions the head demon was giving, I think they're trying to make sacred hearts."

"What?"

"Hearts from virgins that are killed under a full moon, etc." She noticed Sam look at the sky for the phase of the moon. "Don't worry. They're already dead. The hearts are cut out and in some big clay urns. It looks like they're in the process of treating the hearts. It's like stage four out of seven."

He wasn't as comforted by the thought of virgins having been killed in general, but that bell had been wrung some time ago. "Any idea what they're going to use them for?"

"Not really. They're used in a variety of spells and rituals, so I couldn't even narrow it down by magical school. Though, it's definitely meant to be used in something big. Sacred hearts take about three months minimum to prepare." She reconsidered her estimate, then waved her hands in an uncertain gesture. "Well, closer to eight months if you want them to be as potent as possible. But without the holy relic and with all their accidental corner cutting, I think these'll be duds."

Sam rubbed the back of his tense neck while weighing their options. "So we can either try to stop them now and if we're lucky we kill them, screwing up the ritual, but probably force Lilith to restart making sacred hearts, possibly doing them right. Or we just let them do the rest of the ritual with some bad hearts and in a few months something Lilith's planning will get messed up?"

"Pretty much. Unless she destroys a unique artifact in the process, this'll only delay whatever she's planning, not prevent it."

"But that's better than only setting her back seven underlings, right?" he asked, eliciting a shrug from Ruby as an answer. He didn't like the idea of letting those demons go free. They'd been training to fight demons and at their first encounter the two of them were thinking of passing. "It feels weird to just walk away from this."

"Fighting smart means picking our battles," she reminded him. "Anyway, it sounds like we'll have plenty of shit hitting the fan soon enough."

Suddenly, twenty feet from them, the handle of a door to the basilica began to jiggle and turn. Sam and Ruby crouched behind a row of rose bushes a moment before five of the demons exited the building. Four of them were working in pairs carrying two large wooden crates while the fifth one supervised. The demons were shuffling slowly across the courtyard to a van parked on the nearby street.

"These fucking hearts better be damn well worth it. I'm tired of babysitting hummie parts," one of the demons complained.

"Shut up, Kal. If the Mistress wants you nursing babies from your tits you'll do it." The supervisor's tone was only half-enthused and he appeared visibly annoyed to be there just as much as his underlings.

"It could be worse," offered a female subordinate. "We could've gotten number forty-seven. I don't know about you guys, but I don't want to spend the next however-long pretending to be an Alaskan fisherman—"

"Morgan, I'm just sayin' that when I enlisted I expected us to be laying waste to cities, not doing these stupid rites," Kal countered.

"We've just got the one to do and then we're free to have some fun," the superior said, trying to limit the complaining. "It's not like we have to do all sixty-four rites."

"Yeah, and when the fuck are we even gonna be able to do this? Alastair needs to get his shit together and start it already," Kal growled.

Morgan stopped walking and glared venomously at Kal. "Listen here, you sniveling Cruciare cunt, I don't care if we're playing for the same team. If you talk about my archdemon like that again I'll fucking end you."

"Both of you stop fighting or I'll throw you both back in the Pit and get less annoying replacements. We stick to our orders, whether our window is tomorrow or ten years from now. So Kal, stop complaining or I'll cut out your meatsuit's tongue and cauterize it with hot iron." The superior demon seemed pleased with Kal's submissive nod of understanding.

The group turned the corner out of the church's courtyard toward the van and the last thing Sam and Ruby could hear was Morgan saying, "I feel bad for Alastair, really. I hear that righteous man is a real pain in the ass."


	4. The Hunts

In the three months since Houston, Sam and Ruby had gotten into a comfortable routine. They would track the movements of Lilith's minions, capturing and interrogating them if possible. Only a handful of demons were able to provide information, and only time would tell whether the intel provided was actually useful.

They were able to learn that Lilith had teams of demons working on sixty-four tasks around the world. None of the demons that they had questioned knew why she was sending them on these errands or what all of them were. Occasionally, one would know some of the details of another team's task, but it seemed to be pretty unusual for the teams to contact each other directly. Most communication was sent up the chain of command, which involved a level of middle management that separated these teams from Lilith.

If the two of them couldn't capture a demon safely, they would simply kill or exorcise the demons in combat. They had spent a lot of time debating the pros and cons of exorcising demons. Sam was very reluctant to use Ruby's knife as the default because it would kill the human vessel nine times out of ten, but they both knew that every demon sent back to Hell was an opportunity for Lilith to learn about their own activities. Ruby didn't like the idea of leaving a breadcrumb trail of demonic witnesses behind them, but she caved to Sam's convictions as long as they could move on quickly after each exorcism.

Their fear that Lilith would realize the exorcised demons were a valuable source of information against them was realized quickly. When her subordinates began turning up dead or on the wrong plane, she become startled by the systematic attacks and called for an investigation into the matter. It hadn't taken too long for her to find out who was consistently responsible.

By the time Sam and Ruby were able to confirm that Lilith was onto them through interrogation, they had already spent two weeks with demons turning up around every corner. It was a string of ominously bad luck and they tried to be more cautious. But when they got the news that Lilith was actively hunting them while they hunted her, it made them try to cover their tracks that much harder. Both of them wore hex bags at all times to reduce the odds of being found out by a demon.

Another valuable but daunting piece of information that they had learned through their interrogations was that Lilith was keeping an extensive personal guard and changed her location frequently. She knew that she was methodically being pursued and was taking her own precautions. Her measures may have proved enough to avoid normal hunters, but Sam's training with his powers seemed to passively increase the clarity and frequency of his visions. Maybe once or twice a week, Sam would have a vision that would point them in Lilith's direction or reveal another one of her mysterious side projects. This allowed Sam and Ruby to try to disrupt her little projects, but the main priority was always closing in on her location.

All of these factors meant that the pair would find themselves ambushing or being ambushed by groups averaging four demons every few days. Sam utilized his powers almost exclusively when fighting demons, but occasionally carried a shotgun containing salt rounds as back up. Ruby stuck with her knife and a few minor spells when they knew there would be at least three demons. They were able to finish most fights with only a few bruises or cuts, and counted themselves lucky.

Sam felt like pretty soon Lilith would realize that she would need to allot more manpower to stopping them. Ruby had suggested that Lilith's forces might be stretched thin, but they both knew that if she received a decent-sized number of reinforcements from Hell it would only be a matter of time before they faced overwhelming odds.

In their travels pursuing Lilith, on two occasions an obvious case fell into Sam and Ruby's laps. One was a vampire and the other a shifter, but they didn't bother pursuing either case. They had specialized their combat style to the task at hand, and knew they only had a limited amount of time to accomplish their mission. Anyway, Sam didn't want to risk getting involved with hunting again.

* * *

On an unremarkable day by their standards, Sam and Ruby had tracked a demon to an abandoned duplex in south Philadelphia. It was the middle of the night and the surrounding homes in the area looked largely uninhabited. The lock on the front door of the duplex was busted, so the two of them cautiously walked in, weapons readied. Sam had his sawed off with salt shells as a precaution since a lone demon seemed too good to be true. Ruby followed him through the first few rooms, both stepping as quietly as possible. He stopped abruptly and she bent her knees, ready to spring forward into any melee that might break out.

Two middle-aged men rounded a corner toward them. One had fair skin, curly red hair, and something between a five o'clock shadow and a proto-beard. The second man had slightly rosier skin with fine black hair, and an old scar across his chin. They were both dressed in jeans and shirts straight out of an L.L. Bean catalog. The two men looked too rural for the desolate urban setting they were standing in. The black-haired one held a shotgun while the redhead appeared unarmed. On instinct Sam reached out with his mind to grab their smoke clouds only to realize with a start that they weren't demons.

The four of them were in something of an accidental standoff. Sam and the man with the shotgun were aiming at each other while Ruby and the other man held still attempting not to startle anyone.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked.

"It looks like the same thing as you," the unarmed redhead replied.

"You two hunters?" asked the black-haired man holding the shotgun.

"Yeah." Sam felt uncomfortable with that statement. He almost thought of it as a lie. At that point it felt like between him and Ruby they might barely be able to qualify. Technically, they were hunting Lilith, but they weren't really falling into the job description otherwise. But that wasn't the time to think about nuances, let alone voice them. Sam noticed Ruby spared a nervous glanced back at him.

"We thought there might be a demon in the area," Ruby commented, trying to get a conversation going enough to relax the nervous tension.

"Yeah, good luck getting a demon with that little pig sticker." The red haired man chuckled while pointing to her knife.

"It's iron," she lied, but wanted to show some competence without disclosing the value of her literally-secret weapon.

"Can we agree to lower our weapons? I don't want to be watching you while that demon sneaks up on my backside," the man holding the shotgun asked.

"Sure," Sam agreed.

They both slowly lowered their guns and everyone seemed to visibly breathe a bit easier.

"Well thank God for that." The redhead sighed. "I'm Matt. He's Riley."

"Kathy," Ruby offered.

"Keith," Sam followed her lead in giving the hunters the aliases they'd been using since finding out that Lilith was tracking them. Matt nodded a little smile to them, but Riley just watched Ruby and Sam cautiously.

"I'm actually glad we ran into you two. We found something that—well, we just don't understand it. Maybe you two could help us try to figure out what we've got? It's confusing as hell," Matt said as he gestured to the doorway he and Riley had just come through.

Sam and Ruby looked at each other uncertainly, but slowly followed the two men through to the other room. Sam entered the ruined bedroom first and Ruby followed him… until she couldn't. In an instant her eyes grew wide with fear. Sam had turned to look at her and took in the devil's trap drawn onto the ceiling just inside of the door jamb. He lifted his shotgun and swung to face the men, but they already had their weapons aimed at him. Riley had his shotgun trained on Sam and Matt now had a pistol in hand.

"Drop the shotgun," Matt ordered in a calm voice. Sam slowly placed the shotgun on the ground and raised his hands.

"I told you he wasn't actually a demon," Riley said to Matt without taking his eyes off Sam.

"What do you want?" Sam asked as he started working through the implications of the last statement.

"From you or your demon pals, nothing." He gestured at Ruby with the shotgun. "You see, we're just on a job."

With Matt safely in control of the situation, Riley lowered his shotgun into a holster, then pulled a flask from his back pocket. Ruby held up her hands and began shaking her head.

"Guys, you don't want to do this—" she managed to get out before being splashed with holy water. Her body jerked backwards slamming into the unseen wall of the devil's trap before collapsing to the ground. She screamed uncontrollably. Hissing steam curled off her body as she shook and spasmed on the floor.

Sam wanted to throw up. His left hand unconsciously reached toward her, until he heard the pointed cough from the man with the pistol trained on him. He was shaking slightly when he turned to face the men. He was caught up in a flurry of rage, fear, and adrenaline. To say that he hated having guns pointed at him was obvious and an understatement, but that wasn't the thing that was really driving him to the brink. It was the sound of Ruby's screams. His friend was being tortured.

"Please, stop! She's not like other demons! She—" Sam's pleas were stopped by Matt adjusting his posture to aim directly between Sam's eyes.

"Like we'd listen to you! Sam Winchester! Everyone knows you opened the Devil's Gate! You keep showing up in towns with demons. He's working with them; Clare was right." The last statement was directed at Riley. Matt's eyes flicked to Ruby for a split second. She was crumpled on the ground. He smiled a little when his eyes returned to Sam.

Riley splashed Ruby with another swing of holy water. He then put the now empty flask back into his pocket and withdrew a piece of paper. Matt's smile broadened at this turn. Sam's heart was hammering in his chest as he realized that the sheet was an exorcism.

"Let's just talk about this. There has to be something we can do to prove—"

"You don't get it. You aren't talking your way out of this. It's not personal. It's just business."

It hit Sam hard, the realization that they were focused on him. They had come for him, on business—hunter business. This was like Gordon Walker all over again, but these two had gotten the drop on them. Ruby was completely out of commission and moments away from being sent back to Hell. He was unarmed and he'd only been training to use powers that worked on demons. He was not prepared to be facing off against one armed hunter, let alone two.

Riley began reciting the exorcism. Ruby started screaming anew and convulsed, clutching at her chest and throat. Her eyes turned black. Sam could see small wisps of black smoke creeping from her mouth. She was struggling against it, but her smoke couldn't overcome the pull of the exorcism. Sam knew the exorcism incantation by heart and panic set in as he realized Riley was only a few seconds from completing it.

* * *

Something snapped in Sam. Without thinking he suddenly threw his hands forward. The two hunters were hurled backward across the room, slamming into the far wall before collapsing to the floor.

Before Sam could realize what had happened his vision became blurred with pain. His eyes were watering and not entirely focused. He staggered, then fell into a kneeling position. Looking down at his body he didn't see any injuries, but blood started dripping from his face onto his shirt. For the briefest moment he worried that Matt had shot him in the head, but reaching up Sam discovered that the blood was coming from his nose and left tear duct. The pain he was feeling wasn't that of a gunshot, but more like he had been hit in the face with a sledgehammer. His brain was throbbing in waves of pain that seemed to wash away any thought that tried to be more than a few words long. His sense of balance was barely enough to keep him upright and his vision tinted red from the blood pooling around his left eye. He had psychically strained himself before, but this was an entirely new level of injury, and it came at the worst possible time.

He looked over at the two hunters who were still on the ground across the room. The pistol had been knocked out of Matt's hand, but Sam couldn't see where it had landed. He glanced at Ruby. She was shaking violently as she struggled to push herself up into a crawling position. Her right arm gave way and she fell back down clumsily. Her clothes were still damp causing small coils of holy-water-induced steam to come off of her as she tried to move. Sam began to reach out for her, but stopped when he heard Riley groan and begin to move slightly.

Sam threw himself forward onto his hands and knees to crawl toward his shotgun a few feet away. He knew that his salt rounds would be ineffective at subduing Riley even if they would hurt like a bitch. Instead he grabbed the shotgun, turned around and fired both salt shells into the border of the devil's trap above Ruby, breaking it.

He turned back to the hunter, who was now getting into a kneeling position and taking in the scene. Sam knew that his sense of balance was ruined by his massive headache, so he didn't bother trying to stand. Instead he rushed the hunter in a chaotic, almost-feral crawling charge. In the last second of the charge Sam swung the shotgun in an attempt to hit Riley with the butt of the gun.

Riley saw the swing coming and grabbed for the length of the shotgun. The second he had gripped the gun, the hunter rolled backward using Sam's own momentum against him. Sam pitched forward as Riley swung a knee upward into Sam's torso. There was a distinct snapping sound as one of Sam's ribs broke from the impact. Sam fell onto the hunter and they were caught in a grapple.

They fought for control of the empty sawed-off, both also working their knees and elbows to land a few good hits each. After a few seconds of struggling to get a better position, Sam was able to knee Riley in the crotch hard. Taking advantage of the powerful hit, Sam twisted the shotgun as he yanked it from the hunter's hands. He swung the gun down swiftly, hitting Riley in the head with the butt of the gun. The hunter stopped moving.

Before Sam could think to do anything else, Matt tackled him from behind. Sam slammed to the dirty wooden floor with a tearing pop, followed by burning pain emanating from his left shoulder. He was pinned to the ground and his empty shotgun had been knocked out of reach. Matt was on top of him, punching at Sam's face. Sam did the best he could to block or dodge the hits, but his left arm seemed to be dislocated, leaving his left side vulnerable.

He had taken three hits to the face before he was able to catch Matt's incoming left hook in his right hand. Sam tensed his body, which made his broken rib and head scream in pain. Gripping the hunter's fist tightly, Sam pushed upward. Matt's arm had gone rigid in an attempt to deliver the full force of his body into the punch, and he was too surprised by Sam's move to think of relaxing his elbow and shoulder. Sam pushed forward using his right leg and hip to roll the slightly smaller hunter off of him, like one might push over a statue.

Sam and Matt started scrambling into better fighting stances when they both noticed the pistol lying a few feet away below a broken chair. They each dove for it. Limbs tangled as bloody hair fell in Sam's eyes. Another loud crack that came without pain signaled to Sam that his elbow had probably broken Matt's collarbone. But in the last few inches of the fight for the pistol, Sam's right arm was pinned and the hunter closed the distance first.

Sam struggled, shifting his weight against the hunter, hoping to knock the gun loose in the chaos of the melee. They rolled once more on the ground, freeing Sam's right arm. He swung a fist at the hunter's head, but its impact was weak. A moment before his fist connected, Sam heard a gunshot and felt the energy start to drain out of his punch. Only the momentum of the swing stopped his arm from simply dropping to the ground.

His head had been a foggy mess before, but now everything was becoming saturated and sounds started growing muffled. Sam heard Ruby shouting in what sounded like rage, another two gunshots, and the distinct thwack of something very hard hitting meat. The last thing that passed through Sam's mind was the sensation of feeling a small, cold, damp hand touching his hot and bloodied cheek.


	5. Healers & Helpers

For an unknown stretch of time, the only thought that entered Sam's mind was the word 'pain.' Every breath he took was labored, expanding his aching ribs and causing a dull, stabbing sensation just to the right of his belly button. His head felt thick and every sense was taking too long to acclimate to receiving input again. He thought he could hear humming, but his poor sense of time made it hard to distinguish a musical beat. His mouth was dry and tasted like blood, but maybe a little bit sweeter. Rolling his tongue around his mouth, he noticed that two molars from the upper-left quadrant had been knocked out. They weren't the first teeth that he had lost in a fight and he decided that he was lucky they weren't from the front.

He opened his eyes, then looked around the dimly lit room. There were no windows; in fact, he realized fairly quickly that he was in what looked like the basement of a commercial building. The walls and floor were concrete with steel beams supporting wooden floors above him. The room was large with a freight elevator and stairwell in one corner. The elevator had been padlocked from that side and the door to the stairwell had half a dozen magic symbols drawn onto it with chalk.

He was lying on a massive workbench that had been hastily converted into a bed. The wooden work-surface was covered in dark stains that Sam instantly identified as blood. A towel had been rolled up and placed under his head to act as a pillow. Three IVs hung above him from a wall-mounted industrial rack; two were blood while the other one appeared to be saline. His shirt was missing and a large bandage covered the right side of his upper abdomen. He lifted his right hand, which had an IV affixed to it, then began slowly reaching for the bandage.

"I wouldn't do that."

He rolled his head back and to the side to see Ruby sitting at another workbench looking at him. She was perched on a stool and it looked like she had been grinding something up in her mortar. Her workbench was covered in spell components and, to Sam's surprise, guns. To his knowledge she didn't have a problem with guns, but he couldn't recall ever seeing her use one before. Now she had one holstered on her hip. She dragged the stool over, than sat next to him.

"How're you feeling?" she asked with visible concern that made Sam worried.

"I think a truck must have hit me after I was shot." It occurred to him that he hadn't actually seen the gun firing or injury. "I was shot, right?"

"Yeah," she confirmed unenthusiastically. "Point blank in the gut."

The news stunned him. A gut shot was a hard thing to deal with under the best circumstances and it seemed like a safe bet that he hadn't gone to a hospital.

"How bad was it?"

Her eyes briefly met his, then drifted down to the bandage and didn't dare return up to meet him. "It went through your liver, pierced your diaphragm, nicked your right lung…."

He felt lightheaded. All he could manage was to barely exhale, "Fuck."

"You got lucky." He chuckled at Ruby's low standard of luck, then flinched in pain. "The bullet stopped just short of your spine and didn't touch your heart…." She trailed off, decidedly trying to will the next part of her update not to take place.

"So, what's the bad news, doctor?"

"The gunshot wound was more than I could really deal with well. The bullet was in too deep for me to get to it." Sam hadn't realized he could get any fainter without actually passing out, but there he was still listening and trying not to picture a bullet still lodged in his torso. "I can't do powerful healing spells, but I know a healing ward that acts somewhat passively."

He wasn't sure what she was getting at. "Somewhat?"

"The ward converts magical and supernatural energy into healing magic. When it's on you, I can either cast spells on you or channel magic into you and it will increase your rate of healing a bit," she explained. "There was even a very passive effect triggered by the demon blood in your system, which basically acts as your own power source... but there wasn't enough of it in your system to increase the rate of healing to really let you recover against an injury like that."

Sam was tired, but not so tired that he would miss her referring to him not having enough demon blood in the past tense. He didn't know what exactly had happened or what to say, so he let her continue.

"You were pretty far gone at that point. I wasn't able to keep up the channeling with the temporary ward needing to be redone. So I gave you some blood to increase your innate power source, which bought me the time to finalize the ward," she said as she pointed at his chest.

Sam pushed himself up onto his elbows to get a better view of his torso. The lower half of his breastbone, between his pecs had a tattoo. It was shaped like a drop and contained a dozen ancient looking pictographs. The lines were a little rough, but it was incredibly complex despite the haste with which it was made. The skin under the tattoo was slightly raised, but fully healed.

"I drew it with a pen at first, but it starting failing after about ten minutes," she said a bit defensively. "Without getting a permanent ward on you, you wouldn't have made it."

"How much blood did you give me?" Sam meant the demon blood, but his eyes lingered on the bags that were feeding into his IVs. The bags seemed to be the real deal, so he assumed those were plain human blood. They even read B+, like he had told Ruby after she'd kept bugging him for the information in their first weeks together.

"A couple drops in the wound itself and I'm not sure about the rest. Your mouth was on my arm. I couldn't see, but it wasn't just a drop or two."

She waited for a few seconds, bracing herself for him to get upset, but he wasn't angry. He had spent his whole life trying to be as normal as possible, especially since finding out what Azazel had done to him. Now he was finding out that not only had she exposed him to more demon blood without his consent, but it had been a considerable amount. And yet, she'd done it with good intentions. She'd saved him.

"It's... okay," he reassured Ruby as he looked over at her with quiet sincerity.

"You're not mad?" She leaned backward, ready to dodge a sneak attack.

"Some humans tried to kill me and a demon saved my life. I used to think having a little demon in me meant that I was tainted by something evil…. I don't know what evil is, but it's not you. Maybe being entirely human isn't as important to me as it used to." He knew he had a lot to think about, but he felt far too drained for that sort of deep introspection. "What happened to the hunters?"

"Both are dead. You got one. I got the other. I…." She looked away from him. Her lips thinned and she shook her head slightly. "I should've gotten to you sooner."

He couldn't remember if he'd ever seen her express regret before. It made him feel a bit uncomfortable, the way he wanted to easy her guilt—to comfort her. But he wasn't about to let her feel like she'd failed him after she'd just saved his life. "You were really messed up. I'm just glad you managed to stop him from finishing the job."

She hesitated a bit to bring up the other elephant in the room. "Speaking of 'job'..."

"Yeah." Sam's voice turned a few degrees colder. "Those hunters referred to a woman, Clare, who was 'right' about me. I'm guessing they were given the job by her. And with two dead hunters in our wake, she'll probably send more after us. We need to be more careful."

"Once you were stable I started prepping spells that'd be more effective against humans and grabbed some guns." Her had voice brightened when she began speaking about what she succeeded in doing, rather than failed.

He found some surprising comfort in the familiarity of her confidence and nearly smiled. "Sounds good. We should also try to figure out how to cover our tracks against humans better."

"I know just the person to help us."

* * *

It took four days for Sam's bones to mend and an additional three before he stopped having pain related to the gunshot wound. As soon as he was physically able they departed for Portland. The drive took three days, mostly because Ruby insisted that Sam take it easy and sleep in a bed during his recovery. He suggested that he could sleep in the back seat of the Impala while Ruby pulled all-nighters at the wheel, but she didn't take 'no' for an answer.

It was early afternoon on a Thursday when Ruby pulled the Impala into the visitor parking lot at the Portland Community College. After parking, she double-checked some information on her phone and they climbed out of the car. She walked as if she had some idea of where she was going, so Sam followed.

"Okay, the guy we're looking for should be teaching a class in room CC-308 right now," Ruby explained as they strolled through the quad. "We can talk to him after his lecture."

"This guy is a professor?" Sam asked after realizing that he'd only been half paying attention to her. The nostalgia of being on a campus in the warm west coast sun had temporarily overtaken him. Even if this wasn't Stanford, he wanted nothing more than to lounge on the grass while reading a book. Unfortunately, they were there on business.

"He teaches stuff like Pre-Christian Religions, Folklore of the West, or, my personal favorite, Fantasy and Literature of Magic." She grinned back at him. "I bet the school board would shit itself if they knew he was actually a witch."

"So what, he's one of yours or are you two friends?" Sam wasn't a fan of the idea that as a demon Ruby had bargained for human souls, but he wasn't about to start a fight over it now.

"Bit of both," she answered with a vague wave of her hand. "Gabin is the leader of my coven. I've known him his whole life, but I haven't seen him in years."

"You have a coven?" He missed a step and almost fell on some stairs, but caught up to her before she noticed.

"Yeah. It's pretty small and keeps to itself mostly—here we are."

Opening the back door to CC-308, Ruby and Sam quietly slipped inside and sat in the back row. There were around twenty students in the under-decorated, underfunded classroom. The seats were molded, blue plastic with wood desktops hinged to them that reminded him of middle school. He could barely fit in the seat and looked around with an awkward self-awareness.

The professor, Gabin Beauvais, was busy drawing a diagram on the whiteboard at the front of the classroom when they enter. When Sam saw his dark skin and french name he immediately wondered if he was from Louisiana, somehow having a connection to the hoodoo community that Ruby had been familiar with in Lafayette. But Gabin didn't speak with a southern accent. He continued lecturing on the early theories of alchemy for fifteen minutes before calling an end to the lesson. One student lingered to ask a question about an upcoming assignment, but Ruby and Sam waited patiently, then approached him when the girl left.

"Gabin Beauvais?" Ruby asked politely.

"Yes, miss. Can I help you?" He appeared used to strangers popping in on him. Sam imagined there were a lot of late adds to his class looking for some easy credits.

"I certainly hope so." Ruby smiled and then said something in what Sam suspected was Dagbani. Gabin was visibly overtaken with emotion. His eyes widened and his right hand touched his chest. To Sam's surprise, the witch laughed with joy.

"Rubahnali!" He exclaimed as he embraced Ruby. She allowed the hug, even patting him on the back gently in return. When he finally released her, she tilted her head to indicate Sam.

"This is Sam. He's a friend of mine. I'm helping him take on a big bad and we need a favor or two from the coven."

Sam offered his hand to be shaken, but Gabin grabbed him, pulling him into a hug. Sam was caught off guard for a moment and then relaxed. Wrapped in the tight hug, he suddenly was very grateful they had waited for his injuries to heal before seeking out the oddly-enthusiastic witch. Gabin released him and smiled broadly.

"It's an honor to meet you, Sam. Anything we can do for you—" Gabin turned back to Ruby. "You are going to visit the coven, aren't you? Everyone will be so happy to see you."

"Of course, Gabin. I would love to see how the flock is doing. Anyway, we have a lot to discuss." She looked around the only-temporarily-empty classroom. "In private."

"Let me go cancel my Friday classes and then we can go right now. Actually, do you have a car?" he asked, earning nods from both of them. "If you want to take 84 east just past Bridal Veil there's a gas station on the right-hand side. I can meet you there and then you can follow me the rest of the way. It shouldn't take me more than a few minutes to catch up."

* * *

They parted ways in the hall. Gabin turned to the administrative area of the building while Sam and Ruby returned to the Impala. When they had gotten back into the car Sam ran a hand through his hair and shook his head slightly.

"Something wrong?" asked Ruby.

"Not wrong, just unexpected." Sam hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It's just that I thought someone who sold you their soul wouldn't be so happy to see you. The last time I saw witches with their demon the witches were terrified and got killed."

"There are a lot of different ways that you can interact with the humans you contract with," she replied as they started pulling out of the parking lot. "Some demons like to be menacing or hold it over their heads, but some of us don't. I'm not into that whole being-a-dick thing; it's so much work for what? Having some humans be scared of you? Impressing a few demons? Who cares? Beyond the whole meeting-my-quota thing, I've made deals in my coven to empower them when historically they've been weak. And beyond giving them power, it's my duty to protect them. When they need help, I can feel it."

"What?"

"The power that these types of witches can tap comes from their Maji. In order to transfer the energy easily, the witch's soul is tethered to the Maji. I can feel when they're at extremes of emotions. So if they're in distress, I can teleport in to help them or I can give them extra power through the soul-link. My coven knows that in an emergency I'll come as fast as I can to help them—assuming I'm topside."

"So you give them power and protect them in this life in exchange for going to Hell. I know that's a better deal than a lot of people get, but it's still a one-way ticket to Hell." Sam was trying not to sound bitter. He was grateful for Ruby's help and companionship, but sometimes he had difficulty with what she might argue was part of demon society or something.

"Not necessarily," she said with a shrug.

The turn in the conversation caught him completely off guard. He'd been expecting their discussion to end up as a fight. Yet every time that they headed toward the sensitive subject to Ruby's role in the same ecosystem of torture that held Dean, it didn't quite reach the breaking point. Once again, he had no idea how to feel. It was becoming an all-too-familiar situation with Ruby.

"I don't understand…."

"Maji create links to the witches' souls and can manipulate the souls through the link. It's not as clearly worded a contract as with a Crossroads demon. With Crossroads, they explicitly tell you 'You get this for your soul in however many years.' But Maji don't have to make direct contact with the witches or discuss terms. You remember that coven we fought last year with the three women in suburbia? The witches hadn't even realized that they'd technically sold their souls.

"My point is that apart from the soul-link, nothing happens automatically. With witches, a soul goes to Hell because the Maji can manipulate the soul, dragging it into Hell. Likewise, the Maji can just let nature takes its course and not cash in on the soul-link. I don't like seeing my witches in Hell, so I release their soul on death and if they aren't assholes then I don't run into them downstairs. I make it very clear that they don't do anything to earn an eternity of torment."

"Why do you care?" Sam bit his lower lip and mentally kicked himself for the blunt phrasing. "I mean, it's just that you seem to be more concerned about your witches than any other demon I've ever heard of."

Ruby didn't say anything for a long while, but she finally answered, "They're family."

"What?"

"Gabin and most of the coven, they're the great-great—I forget how many greats at this point. They're related to friends of mine when I was a human." Her fingers tightened and loosened on the steering wheel. "My friends were the founding members of the coven. When I came back as a demon I wanted to protect them. They were basically the only family I had, so I gave them power and protection. They had kids, grew older, and eventually died. I protected the kids, who grew up, and had more kids—and that's how it's been."

He stared at her, struggling to processes the new, highly-personal details. "You've been playing guardian a—demon to your friends' kids? For how long?"

"I started the coven around 1732, give or take a few years."

"You don't know the year?" he asked, confused how someone could not remember the year of what had evidently been a major life—well, afterlife—event.

"None of us could read and we had almost no education or resources at the time," she rebuffed his implicit criticism.

Sam mulled the new information over in his mind. He felt like he was actually starting to get an idea of what Ruby was like as a human. She must have been incredibly protective of her friends in order to endure being turned into a demon and still wanting to take care of them. She wasn't formally educated, but knew several languages. She had lived in the Caribbean, but grew up in Ghana… probably during the early 18th century—Sam's stomach sank.

"You... were a slave." Sam was looking for some sort of confirmation or denial of his theory, but Ruby didn't respond right away. Instead, she quietly drove down the highway for almost a mile while carefully considering how much to say.

"Yes." Sam suddenly felt uncomfortable. He wanted to say that he was sorry, but wasn't sure if that was appropriate or not. His white-maleness suddenly flashed in the forefront of his mind. Ruby continued speaking, which brought him back to the moment. "That's actually why I became a witch. I wanted the power to get out—get my friends out. I made the deal. I joined an unsuccessful revolt and was killed—didn't quite get the lifetime's worth of witchcraft that I was hoping for before payment came due. Anyway, I went to Hell, was turned demon, and the first thing I did when I got back topside was burn as many of the plantations in Haiti as I could. In the process I found a few of my old friends, and made some new ones. They traveled to New Orleans, then to some non-slave states, and settled in Oregon. They've been here for about eighty years."

"Okay." Sam exhaled slowly as he nodded. "Now I get why they'd be happy to see you."


	6. The Coven

Sam and Ruby pulled into the gas station that Gabin had mentioned and only had to wait ten minutes before he arrived to escort them the rest of the way to the coven. They followed his dirty, green 2006 Subaru Forester a quarter mile further out of town into a thick forest. Gabin slowed, then pulled off to the right shoulder and Ruby did the same. Unexpectedly, Gabin turned his car so that its front bumper was up against a large evergreen tree. He then proceeded to drive forward. The car slowly disappeared as it passed through an invisible barrier marked by the tree.

When Gabin's car had fully disappeared, Sam blinked a few times. Ruby began inching the Impala forward. Just before they crossed the barrier Sam noticed the tree's trunk was marked with a carving '9 ¾.' He laughed and turned to Ruby who beamed with pride.

On the other side of the barrier was a small, dirt path that led into what Sam assumed was Mount Hood National Forest. Gabin had waited for them and continued to guide them for about another mile until they reached the coven.

Sam wasn't sure what to expect, but he wasn't prepared for the wholesome setting they'd stumbled upon. There was a large clearing in the forest housing a small farm. It had a barn, one two-story central building, and ten smaller house-sized buildings. There were a handful of adults walking around, but the thing Sam hadn't expected was the group of five children playing outside the barn. He had been imagining a group of adults hanging out practicing magic in their free time, not families living in a little commune. Gabin and Ruby parked on the edge of the clearing, and the three of them got out of their cars.

A small crowd quickly formed to greet them. The adults seemed eager to make introductions while the children hovered at a safe distance, watching with curiosity. The majority of the people looked like they had some African lineage, but Sam noticed that a few looked very fair-skinned; two of the kids even had reddish hair. There were maybe twenty men, women and children there to greet them, though he could see a few faces peeking out windows in the distance.

Gabin had announced to the crowd that they had guests. When he introduced Ruby, he called her Rubahnali. Sam turned to her, one eyebrow raised. It was the second time that Gabin had called her that. Leaning down closer to her ear level Sam asked if that was her actual name. In lieu of an actual answer, she gave a little confessing shrug before they were ushered off.

Gabin showed Ruby and Sam into the two-story building, which turned out to be a tiny community center. The bottom floor contained a small office, a library that was large for a private collection, what appeared to be a laboratory, a kitchen, and a moderate-sized hall with several folding tables surrounded by chairs. Gabin offered them a seat at one of the tables, then sat down beside Ruby. They'd hardly gotten settled before two women and a man approached their table, looking to Gabin for instruction. He gestured for them to take a seat as he made introductions.

Pascoe was just an inch or two shorter than Sam, with a thick, black goatee and shaved head. He was in charge of monitoring the protective magics of the coven and teaching offensive magic as well as some physical combat skills. The older of the two women looked slightly frail with greying hair shaved into a short afro. She was Seline, the coven's dedicated archivist, who maintained their library and records. The younger women was probably just out of her teens, with soft features and frizzy, shoulder-length black hair. Her name was Belda and she was responsible for teaching the children of the coven.

Right on cue, a squeak from the doorway caught Sam's attention. When he turned to see what had caused the sound, a handful of children ducked out of view. He had become aware outside that their visit was something of a spectacle to the witches. It seemed a few of the kids wanted to investigate further.

"Rubahnali, please tell us: what brings you to us?" Seline asked politely but to the point.

"We need warding against divination," she replied before elaborating. "We're tracking a very powerful demon who would like us dead, and we've just found out that hunters are looking for Sam—possibly me too if they are able to identify me. The hunters knew where we'd be and were probably directed there by someone who might be a psychic. We don't know much, but I'd rather not have to find out any more."

"Well, the barrier surrounding this camp will protect against all forms of scrying including portable clairvoyance devices," Pascoe offered as reassurance.

Sam suspected that he would only be able to understand half of the conversation going forward if the numerous witches were starting to get into the nuts and bolts. He found that candid view of a coven discussing their craft interesting, but he couldn't contribute in any substantive way and dared not interrupt to ask for a translation of the jargon. He was the clear outsider there and didn't want to confess how foreign he felt just then.

Gabin and Ruby started discussing which language the preparatory incantations should be in when Sam glanced around the room. A boy approximately five-years old stood awkwardly a few feet to Sam's right. The boy straightened up when Sam spotted him, but he didn't retreat to the doorway where several sets of youthful eyes watched curiously. Sam recognized that the boy must be the ambassador for the other children.

"Hi, I'm Sam. What's your name?" He was trying to keep his voice quiet enough that it wouldn't interrupt the business taking place on the other end of the table. To his relief the discussion continued, though Ruby and Gabin both eyed his interaction.

"I'm Tom. You're new—and tall," observed the little boy, causing Sam's lips to curl into a helpless smile at the innocent bluntness of the statement.

"Thomas, he's a guest here," Gabin interjected. "Try to remember your manners."

"Sorry, Dad." Tom looked back to Sam. "I didn't mean to insult you. Is it neat being tall?"

Gabin looked like he was about to say something, but stopped when Sam started chuckling. "It definitely has its moments. I can reach even the highest shelves."

Tom's expression was that of someone meeting a god. It'd been so long since Sam had interacted with a child that he'd forgotten how refreshingly direct and silly it could be.

"Are you a demon?" Tom asked matter-of-factly while staring at Sam, who was a little startled by the question. That answered the question of whether the children in the coven knew that Ruby was a demon. And judging by the lack of caution Tom had about asking Sam, the kids weren't particularly scared by demons.

"No, I'm a human—"

"Are you a witch?" Tom was certainly inquisitive.

Sam didn't really know what to say. He didn't want to commit a faux pas or oversell his limited experience working spells. He looked to Ruby, who had leaned back in her chair, arms folded across her chest as she enjoyed the show. Sam raised his eyebrows at her, silently asking for help.

"He's cast spells before and has some innate magical abilities, but he isn't a witch. He isn't bound to a demon," she said, hoping that that was a sufficient enough explanation for the boy, but he scrunched his brow in confusion.

"You aren't his demon?"

Sam pointed his palms outward in mimed surrender and looked pointedly at Ruby again. He was not touching that line of questioning with a ten-foot pole for fear of screwing up some nuance. The encounter reminded him too much of meeting a girlfriend or boyfriend's parents. That association made his brain hiccup.

"I am Sam's friend and I am helping him," she replied. "It's as simple as that."

Sam inwardly sighed with relief that Ruby's answer was clear and firm. He'd started worrying that he hadn't understood some aspect of their relationship. The idea of trying to parse their interpersonal dynamics wasn't something he was prepared to do, let alone have to explain it to a child.

"I have friends too! We even have a secret fort!" Tom stated proudly to Sam as he pointed to the children lined doorway.

"That's great. But it's not really a secret if you go around telling people about it." Sam had relaxed slightly at the prospect of topics that a non-witch kid might discuss.

"It's only not secret if I show it to you." Tom bounced slightly, then inched closer to Sam. He leaned toward the giant man in the chair and whispered. "Do you want to see our fort? It's really cool."

Sam smiled at Tom before looking around the table. The discussion about the protection wards had been put on hold thanks to Tom's questions. It was obvious all of the adults had heard Tom's not-so-subtle invitation. Belda stood from her chair and gestured to door.

"Would you like me to give you a tour of our camp? If we happen to end up near any secret forts, so be it," Belda offered as she smiled sweetly.

Sam was profoundly grateful for her social charity. He got up from his chair, nodded politely to the four witches still seated at the table, then followed Belda out of the room. Rushing to catch up, Tom rounded the corner and grabbed Sam's left hand.

"Wait until you see our slides!" Tom exclaimed and began pulling Sam along.

* * *

Tom led Sam on a zigzagging, chaotic path through the camp, occasionally letting go of Sam's hand to run around, pointing and grabbing objects to show off. Belda walked along beside Sam, letting Tom determine their agenda. Behind them, the pack of children followed from a safe distance, but closer than before. While Tom ran up and down the rows of a large vegetable garden listing off every plant type, Sam decided to take advantage of the opportunity to chat with Belda.

"So, did you grow up here?" He decided that was a good place begin the small talk.

"Yes, sir—"

"Please, call me Sam."

"Okay." She seemed a little surprised by his informality, but she relaxed visibly. "My mother was born into the coven, too. My dad was the outsider—"

"He wasn't from the coven?" Sam asked.

Belda's mouth turned into a slight frown on one side and her brow furrowed in confusion at the question. "No…. The core of the coven is so small that dating within the camp would be... inappropriate."

"I don't get it. How do you guys meet anyone outside the coven, let alone date? This place seems pretty secluded." He couldn't picture how they'd get decent internet out there for online dating, but then again they were witches. Maybe they had wifi everywhere they went?

"Most coven members attend college and a significant number of them don't return." She stopped briefly to gesture at some of the children, communicating to them to that she was still watching them despite her divided attention, then continued. "I actually have a brother who's a dentist in San Diego."

The idea of an ex-witch dentist made him chuckle. "He quit being a witch in order to clean teeth?"

"Oh, he still practices the craft in his spare time," she corrected him. "But everyone needs a day job."

Sam put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. That was the strangest cliche small talk he could remember being involved in.

"Where did you end up going to college?" he asked as he carefully sidestepped to not crush a tiny tomato plant that had somehow evaded the garden's otherwise tidy rows.

"I haven't actually left yet. There was a death in the coven and I took over teaching the children. I'm hoping that in a few years I'll be able to go get my degree. Gabin told me that I didn't need to stay—that they would find someone else, but it didn't seem right."

"It's nice that you're getting that kind of support about pursuing your education. It's really important, no matter what you end up doing afterward." The thought of being someway isolated from mundane civilian life and having college act as the chance to experience normalcy struck him as deeply familiar. He looked down at Belda with sincere hope that she'd get her chance at a higher education. "What do you want to study?"

"Early childhood development," she replied, then chuckled to herself and added, "After spending so much time with the children, it's become obvious how much more I have to learn."

Sam smiled warmly at her. "That makes sense to me."

Tom ran up to Sam, having realized that his guest hadn't heard the names of any of the herbs he'd been listing off. The boy grabbed Sam's hand again, determined to show him something that would be more interesting. Their little party made its way into the barn, half of which had been converted into a classroom.

Tom resumed his attempt to explain every single thing in view, and Sam didn't have to try very hard to feign curiosity. The kid was clearly brilliant and made the lesson in the subtle differences between witch and non-witch culture very entertaining. He was dismantling an oversized toy hex bag on the floor when Sam noticed a framed charcoal portrait of a woman on the wall.

The woman was stunning. She wore a pale dress that draped over her shoulders, contrasting with her incredibly dark skin. Her neck was slender, her lips were plump, and her eyes had a fierce beauty. Her hair was natural and loose, curling out several inches. Below the portrait was the name Grace Beauvais. Sam leaned over to Belda and nodded toward the portrait.

"One of Gabin's ancestors?"

"His wife. She used to teach the children, before…."

Sam swallowed hard, worried that he'd just accidentally brought up Tom's dead mother. Tom had stopped playing with the hex bag at the mention of her and was staring thoughtfully at the portrait.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" Sam's mind sputtered, trying to find a way to finish his apology without making it worse, but Tom didn't leave him floundering for very long.

"Dad gets sad when people talk about Mom, but I don't mind. She looks nice." Tom kept staring at the portrait for a few seconds before returning to the toy hex bag.

Belda leaned closer to Sam and whispered, "Grace died when Tom was very young. He doesn't seem to remember her very much."

Sam nodded with very profound understanding. He could relate to the feeling of loving someone, but never knowing them well enough to feel grief over their death. He had only known the pain of seeing his brother and dad suffer, without sharing that loss. Whenever he had cried for his own mom it had been either out of the regret that he never knew her or guilt. Tom didn't seem to have those feelings, or at least not that he'd shown in the small amount of time that Sam had spent with him.

After another hour of being shown around the camp, the group found its way back into the social hall where Ruby and her tiny council still sat. Seeing that Sam had finally returned, Ruby stood up for a long-overdue stretch.

"I see you didn't get turned into a frog," she joked as she walked over to Sam.

"I don't know how to make frogs!" Tom replied a little indignantly.

"Maybe when you're older," Ruby said while she patted Tom on the head. The boy put a finger to his lips bashfully at the contact, then ran behind his dad's chair giggling.

"Gabin, I think we've got the big stuff figured out," Ruby commented, signaling to everyone that they were wrapping up their meeting. "We can nail down the rest of it later. Right now, I'd like to relax a bit. We've been running on all cylinders for a few months and I'd like to take advantage of Pascoe's hard work."

Pascoe straightened a little in his seat, proud of the compliment.

"I was hoping that we could have a celebration tonight," Gabin offered. "It's been so long since you were able to visit. But if you would like to rest that's fine too."

Ruby didn't even glance at Sam for his input before answering. "Definitely the party. It's been decades since I've been able to have fun with the coven."

"You should really visit for sabbath," suggested Pascoe.

"First we see if Sam survives tonight, then we'll talk," Ruby replied, with what Sam hoped was a joke.

* * *

A large bonfire was lit in a clearing nearby the camp shortly after sunset. The entire coven, including a few members that had been living in the city, turned out, totalling around sixty people. A safe distance from the fire folding chairs, picnic blankets, and various types of improvised seating had been assembled. The food was a disorganized potluck, with many dishes that were reminiscent of cajun, creole, or caribbean flavors. Pascoe grilled a seemingly endless collection of meat and seafood. Two kegs of beer found their way into the party, along with an unlabeled bottle of clear liquid that Sam cautiously avoided. He reminded himself that these people were basically alchemists and their moonshine would almost certainly be the strongest he'd ever encountered.

An impromptu band had formed early in the night. It included a female guitarist, a man playing a clarinet, a teenage boy playing something that looked like a ukulele, a girl with a fiddle, and two women playing barrel drums that Sam later learned were called Tanbou. The collection of random instruments made no sense to Sam, but somehow the combination worked. It quickly became obvious that they weren't playing songs as such, but more jamming. That was the first jam session that he'd been to since his second year at Stanford. His dad and Dean would've probably called it noise, but Sam leaned back in his chair and couldn't help tapping his foot to the strange melodies that formed.

Ruby spent the first two hours making a pass around the crowd, before climbing onto a table, calling for the group's attention. Sam had seen her drinking the moonshine earlier in the evening and suddenly wondered how easy it was to get a demon drunk. She gestured for the children, thirteen not including the fiddler and ukulele player who stayed with the band, to sit on the ground between her improvised stage and the bonfire. When the children gathered, the music died down slightly allowing her to address the crowd.

"It's been a little over twenty years since I last came to this coven. There are many faces that are new to me and some old friends that aren't with us." Sam gave her credit for tactfully avoiding the word 'dead' in her slightly intoxicated speech. He wondered if anyone here knew her well enough to sense her drunkenness or if it would pass underappreciated. She continued, "You are all strong, incredible people and I'm very proud of you. Maybe it's because I'm old, but some traditions are dear to me. It's important to remember where we come from and who we are. Anyone old enough to know this one better join in so that I don't make an ass of myself. And if you're too young, watch and listen."

Ruby began singing. Sam couldn't understand the words, but recognized it as Dagbani. She drew out words and varied the pitch into a simple rhythm. After a few lines she began clapping and stomping on the table in time to the singing. Sam had a flash of sympathetic embarrassment until he realized that several of the older witches had started singing and clapping along with her. That wasn't just some drunken silliness. It was a real song. The lyrics started to repeat and more people started joining in the singing. Following the singing for guidance, the band started playing along.

Sam leaned over to Belda, who sat in a nearby chair. "What's the song about?" he asked, hoping that she spoke Dagbani.

"It recounts our ancestors' enslavement and fight for freedom. It's more uplifting than I just made it sound. The coven's sung it at major gatherings since its founding." She dragged her chair closer to him and began trying to translate the lyrics as best she could.

Still singing, Ruby jumped down from the table and began dancing like a woman without an ounce of shame. She gestured for the kids to join her and they all happily obliged. Pretty soon almost everyone was doing some combination of singing, clapping, and dancing. Sam remained seated, watching in fascination. He couldn't remember the last party he'd been to where people were more concerned with having fun than impressing others. Maybe there were perks to the no-dating-within-the-coven mentality?

Eventually, the song died down and someone started singing a new song that was another crowd favorite. Things went on like that for some time. Sam was enjoying himself immensely and started to get a little buzzed from his third beer of the evening. During the sixth song, Belda collected the children who were getting sleepy and escorted them to their homes. A few minutes after the kids were gone, Pascoe knelt down next to Sam's chair and handed him a partially smoked joint. It didn't smell like the pot he'd smoked at Stanford. He gave Pascoe a cautious glance.

"Don't worry. It's pretty mild," the witch assured him. "It's the red tablets you're gonna want to stay away from."

Pascoe patted Sam's shoulder and drew another joint from his pocket, which he lit and started smoking. Sam realized that taking drugs with witches was probably just as risky as the moonshine he had declined earlier…. But, if anyone knew their recreational drugs it had to be a group of witches. Also, with the way Lilith and now hunters were closing in on them, that might very well have been his last chance to get really intoxicated in a safe environment.

He finished the joint in three long pulls, which earned a nod of respect from Pascoe. Then things began to get a little strange. It felt like someone had turned up the bass. The music reverberated through his body unnaturally. Sam sank into his chair as much as possible to find some sensation of stability, but it wasn't working very well because his limbs suddenly felt lighter than air. He gripped the seat of his chair, desperate to not make a scene.

His eye darted around trying to find something to focus on, but there was too much to take in. The bonfire was made out of too many colors that somehow hadn't been there before. For a minute he thought that he could smell every type of food that was scattered around the clearing. The texture of his jeans made him think of mountains, which made him think of sand, and oceans, and endless water. He wondered how incredible it'd be if it started raining right then, bonfire be damned. He was laughing at nothing in particular when Pascoe rested his hand on Sam's shoulder again.

"Check this out," the witch said in an ominous move.

Pascoe stood up and approached a small wooden chest that had been brought forward while Sam was distracted. The chest's sudden appearance made him wonder if he had lost some time. Pascoe opened the chest and considered the contents carefully before selecting a glass jar that held yellow powder. He took a pinch of the powder in his fingers and walked up to the bonfire. This caught the attention of a few of the remaining witches, who proceeded to cheer in support of whatever was about to happen. He threw the powder into the fire, which flashed green momentarily, then started reciting an incantation.

Sam put down the beer that he was holding, though he wasn't entirely sure where it had come from, and got a little worried. He could deal with drugs and he could deal with magic, but he wasn't sure if he was prepared to deal with both at the same time. That seemed like an inevitable bad trip. He looked around for Ruby, who he spotted a third of the way around the bonfire popping one of the notorious red tablets into her mouth. He had no idea if he said 'fuck' or just thought it. He should've been even more freaked out by the whole situation, but his ability to panic seemed to be partially impaired by whatever he had just smoked. Clinging to his chair, he resigned himself to riding it out.

Pascoe finished speaking, then raised his right hand to the sky. The bonfire swirled upward into the shape of a large dragon's head. He flexed his wrist and the dragon made of flames mirrored the motion with its neck. He snapped his fingers, making the flames flash green again. Then blowing across his palm, the bonfire hissed before returning to its normal state. The two dozen remaining witches applauded Pascoe's performance.

Sam's eyes were wide. He had seen some impressive things in his time and under different circumstances he might've just accepted it as a neat trick, but that was definitely not normal circumstances. The drugs had given the dragon a slight afterglow and the heat coming off of it as it swept around made him want to melt with relaxation. Some objective voice in his head was observing that he was more playful and relaxed than he really should have been. The voice was struggling to keep him grounded, but he was about an inch away from shutting off his brain and going on impulse.

A middle-aged, female witch had taken Pascoe's show as a challenge. She withdrew a bottle from the chest and poured some of its liquid onto the ground in front of her. Whispering something, she sliced her thumb with a pocket knife, allowing a drop of blood to fall into the small, mysterious puddle. Vines of neon-blue light grew out of the puddle and crawled out in a ten-foot radius. The witch whispered something else, causing the vines to bloom brilliant, orange flowers that smelled tropical and sweet.

Sam couldn't help but examine the flowers close up. He carefully walked over and sat down cross-legged on the grass bordering the vines. The petals had a velvety texture that made his skin vibrate on contact. The scent of the flowers was lovely, though it made his head swim. For a moment he thought the petals emitted musical notes when touched, but he managed to stop himself from testing it by sitting on the ground petting a magical flower for who knew how long. Pascoe gently collapsed onto the bed of vines and flowers next Sam, sending up a puff of sweet pollen.

"How are you holding up?" Pascoe asked as he rolled onto his side to face Sam.

"I'm good. I'm feeling it, but good." Sam nodded to himself a few times, then looked around. "Quick question: Is this all real or am I hallucinating?"

"Did you eat anything that looks like roots?" Pascoe tilted his head back and used a small, plastic dropper bottle, letting two drops of blue liquid hit his tongue.

"I don't think I ate any roots," Sam said uncertainly due to his distorted sense of time. He looked down to notice he'd been petting the orange flowers. His left hand grabbed his right to stop the embarrassing petting. Pascoe saw the visible self-restraint and raised an eyebrow.

"You seem a little tense. Are you fighting the trip?" Pascoe's question made Sam laugh awkwardly and shrug. "You need to relax. Otherwise you'll start second-guessing everything. Surefire way to get twitchy. You'll be fine. Just stay away from the bonfire—and the red tabs. They hit like a tank. Here." Pascoe handed Sam the dropper bottle.

"What does it do?" Sam eyed the blue liquid, unsure whether adding more sorcery or chemicals was really the right answer.

"It'll help you mellow out and it's great for opening the mind. Take a drop or two. You'll feel blitzed, like the world is whispering secrets in your ear."

Pascoe's pupils had grown slightly and his smile was reassuring. Sam took two drops, then handed the bottle back to Pascoe.

After a minute or so he did feel calmer in spite of the random bizarre displays of magic going on around him. Sam could tell that whatever he had smoked earlier was still lingering in his system, but the little sensory effects didn't really worry him. He was just enjoying the ride, which currently meant watching four witches having a pissing contest to see who could conjure the largest cloud of sparks.

When the victor was crowned, Sam looked back down at the orange flower he was seated in front of. He decided to pet the flower again, no longer embarrassed by what anyone else might think of him. Reaching his hand out to touch it, the flower moved slightly away from his fingers. He stopped, stared in confusion, then tried to touch it again. The flower once again was pushed away, just a half-inch from his fingertips.

"Now that's a nice trick." Pascoe had lifted himself into a sitting position and was watching Sam with professional curiosity.

"This isn't part of the spell or something?" Sam had no idea what to expect. Things just seemed to take weird turns at any given time with that crowd.

"That's not any spell I've ever seen." Pascoe tried reproducing the effect with another flower, but couldn't get it to move.

The realization crept over Sam slowly, that he was pushing the petals of the flower with his telekinesis. The same telekinesis that had nearly given him an aneurysm a few days earlier. He was using his powers without being threatened or even focusing on it. Thankfully, he was too calmed by the blue liquid to be scared of the situation. Aside from not expecting to be able to use a power like telekinesis, he didn't feel incapable of controlling it. He wondered if the change was from the additional demon blood in his system or the blue liquid 'opening his mind.' At some point when he was sober he'd have to try to test his powers again.

He looked over at Ruby, who was dancing a few yards away. She had taken off her jacket and shoes. Sam smiled as he watched her. She had entered her completely-shamelessly-authentic phase. He had grown to treasure those moments, when she'd sing along to her music, sharing her secrets, or in her moments of concern for him. Watching her dance, he felt content for the first time in far too long.

* * *

Blue vines filled Sam's vision, wrapping around his body. His shirt was missing for some reason. The vines bloomed their divine-smelling flowers and he felt incredible. He could hear a woman's voice whispering, but he couldn't understand the words. Suddenly, the vines grew thorns, which pierced his flesh. He tried to pull them off, but when he went to touch them they dissolved into his skin, forming a massive tattoo that covered most of his torso.

The air around him filled with sparks that fell like shooting stars. Blinking to recover from the flashes of light, he discovered that he was in a grassy field that he didn't recognize. A figure ran through the grass in the dying light, but he couldn't make it out. There was more whispering behind him. He turned to see the bonfire from the coven's celebration, but no one was in sight. He walked around the crackling fire, coming full circle to find Ruby standing before him.

Her jacket was off like when he'd been watching her dance, but now he noticed a tear on her shirt's left sleeve. His attention shifted helplessly. Her shirt was clinging to every curve and bend of her body. She licked her lips, making them shine in the fire light. He watched her fingers trail down her stomach to the button of her jeans. He felt a warmth growing inside of him.

The whispering began again; it was Ruby's voice. He was confused because she was standing in front of him, yet the voice spoke softly only a few inches from his right ear.

"You want to go?" It was pure seduction and he felt his heart skip a beat.

Sam woke up in a folksy-looking attic bedroom. He could hear the sounds of the coven from outside a nearby window. It was probably late morning and he was surprised he didn't have a hangover considering the night he'd had. Shaking his brain awake he realized that he had an erection, remembered his dream, then covered his face with both palms.

"Oh, God," he groaned. "Fuck, no."


	7. Protections & Secrets

Someone had thankfully left Sam's duffel bag at the foot of the small bed he'd woken up in. Pulling back the blanket, he found that he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. The thought that he hadn't stripped or been stripped naked was very comforting. If he had woken up half or entirely naked after last night he probably would have just stayed in bed out of embarrassment indefinitely. Instead he grabbed a set of clean clothes from the duffel and got up. He had to readjust his jeans and tried to casually hold the bundle of new clothes over his crotch.

He snuck downstairs, then into the first bathroom he could find. He took a cold shower to help quell his morning wood, which had only been made worse by his dream. The cold water made him shiver, but he thought he noticed an extra shudder go through his body at the memory of dream-Ruby whispering to him.

That was bad. From the moment she'd turned up in the soulless brunette he'd been aware of her body's attractiveness, but he hadn't thought twice about doing anything about it. Recently though she'd become a primary source of emotional comfort and fun in his life, which made a little part of him want to find physical comfort and fun in her. He felt like an awkward teen. He'd basically gotten drunk at a frat party and noticed that his long-time friend was fuckable. Turning off the shower he decided not to make things weird. The last thing he needed was to have Ruby get upset and leave over some failed pass at her. Anyway, the whole thing was too confusing to act on anytime soon, if at all.

After toweling off and dressing, Sam wandered out to find everyone. He went into the central building, where he found Gabin and Ruby standing by a table looking over a series of drawings. She glanced over at him and smiled, making his stomach knot a little bit.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Ruby greeted him. "You were pretty awesomely high last night. I mean, I'm impressed. Pascoe said you handled it like a champ."

"Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Did I do anything I should be embarrassed about? I have a few gaps in the night."

"Not that I know of."

Sam sighed with profound relief, then approached the table to examine the drawings. They were of an ornate ward in the shape of a simplified and inverted fleur de lis. It was filled with tiny symbols and pictographs that were reminiscent of the tattoo Ruby had given him over his breastbone.

"This is what we're thinking of for your personal ward of protection and veiling," Gabin said as he pointed to different elements. "This will prevent all known forms of magical scrying, including through the use of magical devices. We also incorporated an evasion charm that will increase your luck in evading pursuers. There's no way to create a passive spell to stop them from physically seeing you, but any traces you accidentally leave in your wake will be more likely to be destroyed by chance. It's a bit hard to picture, but luck-based spells can be deceptively effective."

"Yeah, I had a run-in with a hoodoo rabbit's foot two years back," Sam commented, causing Ruby to raise an eyebrow. Clearly she needed to hear that story at some point.

"Ah, good," Gabin continued. "I'm including an extra part here to make it more effective against demons and humans. It would be too difficult to place extra protections against all sentient species so we opted to stick with the two most likely to go after you. Each tattoo will take four eight-hour sessions—"

"Each?" Sam asked, suddenly realizing that he was looking at at least a day and a half of being jabbed with needles.

"I'm getting one too." Ruby was examining some detail of the design and didn't bother looking up when she spoke. "No use in hiding you if I'm sticking out like a sore thumb."

"Each ward needs to be completed within sixty hours of starting to be the most effective," Gabin explained. "Since that's a lot of pain and physical stress in a short period of time, we think it'd be best to put you in a trance for the duration. It will also prevent you from having to get up for food or to use the bathroom. I can do yours first and then Rubahnali's. By the time hers is done, yours should be completely healed." The witch readied himself for follow-up questions, but Sam had come too far to get squeamish then.

"When do we start?"

* * *

After a quick lunch, the three of them went into the laboratory-like room in the community building. White tiles gave it a cold clinical feeling, but Sam noticed that unlike hospitals, the tiling extend up to the ceiling, which undoubtedly made the room easier to clean when experiments went wrong. The far wall was covered in cabinets, of which the lower set contained small apothecary drawers. There was a medical style exam table, that Gabin started adjusting to include a ring of cushioned head-support that one might see on a massage table.

"So where exactly is this tattoo going?" Sam asked while eyeing the exam table.

"Your back," Gabin answered while walking over to the cabinets to collect some powders and dried plant material. "It's too big to go anywhere else and the wards on your chest rule the front out."

When they had entered the room, Ruby had immediately started digging through the apothecary drawers. She noticed Sam watching her and held up a small porcelain bowl.

"I'm making some borderline-coma tea. You prefer mint or lavender?" After he stared at her for a second not fully understanding the context of the question she added, "Otherwise, it tastes like wet dog."

He'd never been offered flavor options for a potion before. "Mint, I guess."

Ruby started grinding and mixing components. She uncorked a bottle, sniffed it, looked thoughtful for a moment, then poured some into the brew. It unnerved him to see that for something that was going to put him into a near-coma, she wasn't measuring anything. Not to mention the fact that the night before she had been taking probably-lethal quantities of drugs and alcohol.

"Don't you need to know my weight in order to make the right dosage?" he asked, but she didn't seem remotely concerned.

"It doesn't work like that. I'll take about the same amount."

Sam noticed that the wooden box of the perme kit that the old witch from Lafayette had given them was sitting on the counter. He opened it up and looked at its contents. One of the four vials was empty and the bone-needle had some dried blood on it. It made sense that Ruby would have used these tools on him while pressed for time in a warehouse basement, but it still struck him as a little unsanitary. Granted, those tools were supposed to be excellent quality. Not to mention he was pretty certain that his healing ward reduced the chance that he'd get an infection. He absentmindedly scratched at the scar by his liver.

"I'm going to be using different ink," Gabin told Sam while hanging the sketches on the wall next to the exam table. "Those are excellent quality, but there isn't enough for a whole tattoo and consistency is more important right now."

Ruby tapped Sam on the shoulder and handed him the small bowl containing an opaque, reddish-brown liquid. He swirled the dish gently, noticing that the liquid had a muddy texture. Though he had to admit that it did smell faintly of mint.

"Once you drink that you'll have about three minutes before you start get insanely tired," she explained. "After that it'll take less than a minute before you lose consciousness entirely. You shouldn't be aware of anything until you wake up in a few days. We're always gonna have someone here, even when Gabin is resting between sessions. Also, we'll be watching your vitals. You ready?"

She was trying to reassure him. He appreciated that she had given him as much information as she had. If she had been in a bad mood or distracted, she might have just given him the brew and fed him information as it became relevant. Sam recognized that in her own way she seemed to acknowledge that that sort of thing might be intimidating.

"Are you ready for me to pass out?" he asked, eyeing the brew.

Gabin gave the thumbs up and Sam downed the sludgy liquid in a few gulps. It tasted a little metallic and minerally, but there was a vaguely-refreshing mint aftertaste. His stomach rebelled against the brew for a moment and he braced himself against the exam table. Luckily, after a minute or so the nausea passed.

"You're going to need to take off your shirt, then lie face down on the table," Gabin instructed while preparing a tray of needles and black ink.

Sam took off his t-shirt and started to climb onto the table. He could already start to feel a heaviness in his limbs. Rolling down onto the table came far too easily to him. His muscles relaxed, pressing him into the table. With a quick adjustment, his face rested in the donut-shaped cushion, which allowed him a view of part of the white tile floor. He could feel Gabin reposition his arms further away from his body to allow better access to the sides of his torso.

"Are you in a comfortable position? This is going to be your last chance to change," Gabin warned.

Sam could only murmur in response. He'd meant to say he was fine, but the drowsiness was becoming overpowering. He saw Ruby duck down between his face and the floor to check his facial expression for insight. Sam smiled and gave her a look of contentment. She smiled back at him, her face half a foot from his.

"We're awesome," she said as Sam fell asleep.

* * *

Sam woke up from a heavy, dreamless sleep in the same twin bed that he'd found himself in the night before—actually several nights before. He was lying on his stomach, wrapped in a large quilt that smelled like mothballs. When he sat up he realized why he had been left on his stomach. His entire back felt bruised, probably because it was. Stretching felt both amazing and terrible as his sore joints popped with relief, but his muscles screamed. Not unsurprisingly, it only took a few seconds of consciousness for his stomach to remember that he hadn't eaten in days.

He staggered downstairs to the house's kitchen, where he ran into Belda and Tom eating bowls of oatmeal at a small dining table. The last time he'd woken up in that house no one had been home, but seeing that Tom was still in his pajamas, Sam thought it was a safe bet that he had been sleeping in Gabin's attic.

Tom immediately tried to engage him in conversation, but Sam was still a bit too groggy to follow its twists and turns. Belda had apparently foreseen that possibility because she started pouring him a mug of coffee even though she wasn't having any herself. Taking the mug and a bowl of oatmeal, Sam sat down at the table to join them for breakfast while trying not to lean against his chair's back.

"What've I missed?" His voice cracked slightly from lack of use.

"Gabin said the tattooing went well. He's about halfway done with Rubahnali's so it will probably be another day or two before she's awake." Belda looked over at Tom. "I've been watching Tom while Gabin focuses on his work. He's taking breaks to rest every eight hours, but he hasn't had free time— He doesn't mind. It's part of the craft," she added hastily, trying to lessen Sam's guilt over putting Gabin out.

"I learned about volcanoes!" Tom had evidently decided that Sam's request for an update called for more exciting news. "They're mountains that blow up and shoot fire and rocks, but the rocks are really hot and soft. I drew a picture, but it's not here. It's in the classroom."

"Well, Tom, I'm still waking up," Sam said between sips of coffee. "I was asleep for awhile—"

"Three days," Tom corrected.

"Yeah." He tried not to grimace at the thought of how much caffeine he would need to feel human again. "And I need to regain my bearings a bit. If you give me a few minutes to pull myself together and finish my breakfast, then I'd love to see your drawing. I can even tell you about some islands that were made by volcanoes."

Sam was confident that he'd successfully bargained for fifteen minutes of serenity in which to enjoy his meal, when Tom's eyes shimmered with awe. The boy bounced out of his chair and yelled something about getting dressed while turning the corner down a hallway. Belda nodded in approval.

"I think you have a fan. And no wonder, with all these big stories of volcanoes in water." She waved her arms around to emphasize the sarcasm.

Sam smiled into his coffee mug, then asked, "The idea of Hawaii is going to blow his mind, isn't it?"

True to the deal, Tom returned a few minutes later and quietly waited for him to finish breakfast before dragging him out of the house by his hand. Sam found himself running the gauntlet of entertaining the child for the better part of a day. It was more fun than he'd expected, but a bit tiring, especially after the tattooing ordeal his body had just gone through. But he tried not to complain. Tom was surprisingly sensitive to Sam's nuanced behavior, picking up on even the briefest moments of hesitation when Tom would try showing off a spell.

In the middle of the afternoon, Sam found himself being dragged by Tom into a storage room inside the barn. The walls were lined with shelves full of educational supplies and a small, tattered area rug covered part of the floor. Sam was a little confused why Tom had taken him to the relatively drab closet until Tom stared at him seriously, arms folded across his chest.

"This is a super secret so you can't show anybody."

Tom didn't even wait to see if Sam was prepared to pinky-swear or cross his heart and hope to die. The boy just turned around and lifted the rug off of a cellar door. The secret fort's location had been revealed. He pulled open the door and descended a wooden ladder into darkness. Sam didn't like the idea of going into a cellar with the kid—it felt too much like something from To Catch A Predator—but he also wasn't a fan of the idea of a kid wandering around alone in a nearly-pitch-black cellar.

Sam climbed down the ladder, carefully making sure to not accidentally kick or step on Tom on his way down. His back felt like it had been torn to shreds by the time he reached the bottom and he decided he was not looking forward to the climb back up. The cellar was big enough for Sam to stand at his full height, which was a pleasant surprise. He heard a shuffling sound maybe ten feet away. Tom turned on a battery powered camping lantern, illuminating the whole room.

The cellar was actually quite large, maybe spanning fifteen feet in both length and width. The dirt floor was mostly covered in a foam puzzle-piece play mat. Drawings made by children covered the walls. The whole place would've looked slightly serial-killer-menacing except that Sam reminded himself that it was obviously decorated by kids in a commune who were unfamiliar with that cliche. Tom grabbed one of the drawings from the wall and sat down on the play mat. He looked at the drawing of what appeared to be the stick figure equivalent of two adults and a child.

"Dad said that you fought hunters." It was a question.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair at the prospect of the looming conversation. He sat down on the play mat across from Tom. "Yeah. Two of them attacked us a little while ago."

"Were they scary?" One of the corners of the drawing was already dogeared, bordering on falling off completely. Tom anxiously flicked the corner back and forth.

"The fight was scary, the hunters themselves…. I've fought a lot of really scary things, but the hunters were just people."

"Did they hurt you?"

"I've been hurt by all sorts of things," Sam evaded.

He thought about saying he was a hunter. Part of him wanted to mitigate any negative feels the boy had about hunters, but he hesitated. Would Tom feel betrayed or frightened? Maybe there was value in a witch growing up cautiously fearful of hunters? He didn't even know what Tom might be getting at.

"They hurt my mom." The boy had lost his frantic energy. He looked older. "Why do they hurt people?"

Sam admired that his curiosity seemed to somewhat tame whatever fear or anger Tom was feeling. There was a chance to really talk about the issue, though he wasn't entirely sure what to say. Hell, it wasn't even really his place to color Tom's opinions, but the boy had asked him a question.

"They think that they're making things safer. You know that most humans aren't witches, right?" Sam asked, earning a silent nod from Tom. "Humans tend to be scared of witches and other supernatural things. And when they're scared, they want to protect themselves, but sometimes they're proactive; they do too much. In general, hunters are trying to protect humans from things that they think are scary."

"I'm not scary," Tom objected softly.

"But they don't know how cool you are. They see a lot of really scary things. If they meet a scary witch, it's easy for them to assume that all witches are scary too. The world is a place full of things people don't understand, and people are often scared of the things they don't understand."

Tom put down the drawing and switched to picking compulsively at the velcro straps on his shoes. Sam wondered if Tom had taken in what he had just said.

"I don't want to be scared. That's why I come down here. It's safe."

"Is it protected by magic?" Sam asked.

Tom shook his head. "Because it's secret. If not, it'd just be fort."

Sam wondered if growing up in a hidden community had given Tom some early understanding of the power of knowledge and ignorance. Being brought in to Tom's little club of people who knew about the cellar suddenly took on a new, profound meaning. This was the boy's way of opening up to him and sharing something of value.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Sam asked, piquing Tom's curiosity. The boy nodded without breaking eye contact. "My dad was a hunter. He became one after my mom was killed."

Tom had wrapped his arms around his knees. He looked incredibly thoughtful and serious compared to the child that had been running in circles with a toy raven an hour earlier.

"What killed her?"

"A demon," Sam answered, making Tom's brow furrow, but the boy didn't say anything. "Ruby—Rubahnali is a nice demon, but there are a lot of mean, scary demons."

Tom looked like he was trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together using his mind alone. After almost a minute, he said, "The hunter killed my mom because he was scared of her. Was the demon scared of your mom?"

"I don't think so." Sam thought back to the vision of his mom's death that Azazel had shown him. She had definitely recognized Azazel before he had killed her. Looking back, she seemed more angry and worried for Sam rather than generally fearful. "I don't know. The reason why it all happened…. The truth is I don't entirely understand it."

"Does it scare you?" Sam looked at Tom, surprised and confused by the question. Seeing Sam's expression, Tom tried to be clearer. "You said you don't understand it, and people get scared of things they don't understand. Does it scare you?"

"Yeah. I think it does."

* * *

They found Belda reading a 1960's pulp mystery novel on the patio of Gabin's house. Sam tagged her in for entertaining Tom, then went for a walk to clear his mind. He skirted the border between the clearing of the camp and the surrounding forest. Several men and women greeted him, but went about their tasks in the last hour or so of daylight. About halfway around the circuit, Sam noticed Pascoe walking to the tree line twenty yards ahead. He shouted a greeting to Pascoe, who stopped, allowing Sam to catch up with him. Pascoe casually kicked his heavy boots against a fence post and adjusted a leather satchel while waiting for Sam.

"I'm glad to see you're up and around. I snuck a peek at your tattoo. When they're that big it can be rough." Pascoe pulled up his shirt in solidarity, revealing a large ward tattoo that wrapped around the entire left side of his torso. Sam's eyebrows rose and he nodded, impressed by both the craftsmanship and physical pain endured. Pascoe put his shirt back down and had to realign the satchel once more.

"I'm still a little sore," Sam admitted. "But it's getting better. Looks like you can relate."

"Yeah, I got this one a few years back. It's great for helping me look out for danger in the camp, but I get a lot of looks when I go to the beach." The idea of Pascoe in swim trunks amused Sam for some reason. "What're you up to?"

"Just taking a walk to kill some time before dinner," Sam replied, then pointed to the satchel. "How about you? Are you working or something?"

"Yeah. I'm going out to walk the barrier, make sure everything is in good shape. I do it twice a day. It's incredibly boring, but when you're in charge of security you want boring."

"Want some company?" Sam offered, having nothing better to do.

Pascoe patted Sam's shoulder and started walking into the woods. "Try to keep up."

The barrier was a circle, two miles in diameter, that was marked by an iron chain fence except for at the road they'd entered through. Pasoce invited Sam to touch the unseen and incorporeal wall, which Sam did very carefully. While passing through it when they'd arrived at the camp, he had been so distracted by the spell that was cloaking the dirt road that he hadn't noticed the cool, clammy sensation the barrier produced.

"I don't see any runes or markings around here. How is this maintained?" Sam asked as he stopped playing with the barrier.

"The real source is buried in the center of the camp. I'd have to look at a map to tell you exactly where. I haven't actually seen it myself," Pascoe confessed.

"I thought Gabin said you run the barrier?"

"I maintain it, reinforce it out here by channeling spells and the like, but I didn't make the barrier. It's been up and active since the 1930s. I have the user manual in the archives, but digging it up to mess with it would knock out the barrier temporarily and, according to records, the last time that happened it took months to bring it back up properly." The witch shuddered at the thought of so much effort and vulnerability.

"I guess if it isn't broken don't fix it?" Sam shrugged.

"It works, but it definitely has a couple annoying characteristics. It attracts lightning strikes so in a storm I have to keep watch for fires. Another annoying thing is that one of the creators had the idea to have it defend against parasitic monsters like vampires and ghouls, but the spell was so vaguely worded that if a woman gets pregnant in here she can't get out." Pascoe shook his head. "I get no end of headaches having to deal with this thing's quirks. I swear, I find one more bizarre personality trait, I'm divorcing it and moving to Santa Cruz."


	8. Taking the Shot

The next day was a school day in the camp so Sam found himself without Belda and Tom's company for the entire morning and afternoon. Gabin was finishing the last session with Ruby, but she probably wouldn't be awake until late into the night. He decided to use the quiet day to himself to explore the coven's library. Seline greeted him from her reading chair when he entered, but didn't bother making any small talk before returning to her book.

Over several hours, Sam worked his way through a dozen large tomes. The library contained many collections of spells from various schools of magic. Most of the magical schools in the catalog were hoodoo and other southern United States or Central American in origin, but there were also volumes covering various Native American, Eastern European, African, and Central Asian schools. In his research of different schools he realized that the design of the ward on his back had incorporated a wide variety of sources. The level of expertise Gabin had shown with the design was truly masterful.

Aside from the spell books, Sam found a large collection of histories written by magic users. Some of the annals predated this coven, a few going back to the twelfth century. He found those accounts fascinating. On occasion he would find references to major historical events or encounters with hunters or monsters. He was in the middle of an account of three witches attempting to kill a particularly-skilled hunter in Paris only weeks before the French Revolution when Gabin entered the library to tell him Ruby's tattoo was done.

Ruby was sedated, laying on her stomach in a small bed at Gabin's home. A bandage had been placed over her back, before an oversized shirt was slipped over her for modesty. She was wrapped in a purple and maroon quilt, which helped her dark brown hair contrast against her pale skin. Sam had meant to only check on her for a moment before leaving to find some dinner, but he ended up sitting down in a nearby chair.

It was strange watching her sleep, even if it was artificially induced by a spell. She looked more human and vulnerable. He wanted to see how bad the bruising on her back was and maybe put some ice on it, but he didn't want to risk adjusting her shirt, even if he wasn't about to take any inappropriate peeks. He felt a little flush at the thought of touching her. Instead he stared with interest, watching her back rise and fall as she breathed. She probably didn't even need to breathe as a demon, but maybe the act was purely reflex. He watched her for a long while before falling asleep in the lumpy armchair.

* * *

It was the middle of the night when Ruby regained consciousness. She was sore, though she'd experienced much worse and considered herself lucky that she could afford the time to let herself rest a bit. The room was dark, but once her eyes became unclouded by the anesthesia she saw Sam. He was sleeping in what looked like a terribly uncomfortable chair. His long legs were stretched awkwardly in front of him, almost resting against the side of her bed, which was probably four feet away. His head was tilted back and to one side. It rolled slightly, unconsciously trying to find a better position.

She thought about waking him up, but hesitated. He was bound to be sore from sleeping in that haphazard position and the sooner he moved the better. But she was taking a moment to appreciate his presence. He'd been keeping an eye on her, even though there was no real danger in the camp.

She knew that he cared about her. He was one of the most thoughtful humans she'd met and she generally liked that quality about him. Doing the right thing was so important to him. His conviction was one of his greatest strengths, but he didn't seem to appreciate it. He'd been so caught up in concern over his demon blood and thinking that he was cursed that he didn't realize how good he actually was. Maybe he was overcompensating, but at that point goodness was so ingrained in him that maybe it didn't matter if it was an innate quality or a habit formed from years of concerted effort.

After the hunters tried to kill him, Ruby worried how his—innocence wasn't the right word, but maybe purity would do— Ruby worried how his purity might be affected. The black-and-white, good-and-evil world he'd been raised into was beginning to crumble quickly. He'd suddenly found himself thrown into the monster category and it wasn't just by a lone, insane hunter. These hunters had been working on pretty convincing evidence to an objective eye. And now, taking refuge with a coven, was Sam starting to question where the lines were drawn? He had been less upset over her giving him more demon blood than she had expected. She wondered if he'd given up on clear-cut answers long ago.

Sam suddenly jerked awake and looked around the room, regaining his bearings. He saw her lying in the bed, staring directly at him. He quickly rubbed his hand across his face, checking to make sure he hadn't drooled all over himself.

"You okay, Sammy?"

"Yeah, I um…. You're awake."

She noted that he didn't object to her using his nickname. In the past he'd only reserved that privilege for Dean, but he had started opening up to her more and more in the last few weeks.

"Only for a few minutes. It's actually kind of funny, usually it's me in the chair and you beat up on the bed." She huffed out a laugh, but smothered it partially-formed when it made her sore back throb.

"Well, turnabout is fair play." He smiled. "Anyway, I'm sure I'll be getting beaten up soon. We need to get back on the road as soon as you're able."

"What's up?" She began to lift herself up on her elbows, but thought better of it.

"I just had a vision. Lilith is going to be in St. Louis and she's pissed."

* * *

By midday Ruby was physically able to get back on the road, even if she was still pretty bruised. They packed up the Impala and said their goodbyes.

Tom was visibly disappointed to see them go, but he had apparently foreseen the possibility because he had made them a little stick man as a keepsake. It was made from a few twigs, glue, and orange yarn. The stick-man's ill proportions made it incredibly endearing and Sam put it in an old cigar box that held his most treasured items. Sam had formed a nice little friendship with the boy, probably one of the most sincere friendships he'd had since Stanford. He promised Tom that he'd send letters or postcards, care of Gabin.

Ruby gave Gabin one of her private cell numbers so that he could reach her in an emergency or with updates. It'd been a long time since she'd been in regular contact with the coven and thought there might be value in reestablishing that connection. Sam seemed to have bonded with several of the coven members and she wanted him to have that kind of human connection in his life if possible.

Falling out of contact with Bobby had hurt Sam more than he liked to admit. The older hunter was basically the only person Sam had had in his life right after Dean's death. Now Sam was in a much better headspace, but he couldn't bring himself to reach out to Bobby. Ruby suspected that Sam was scared to potentially face Bobby's official rejection, instead of continuing to exist in the safety of relationship-limbo. But the coven had given him new relationships that could hopefully help fill the gap left by the loss of his family and community.

Gabin gave them a large collection of spell components, tools, and a few of the annals that Sam hadn't gotten around to reading. Sam initially rejected the offer of the books, reluctant to take them from the safety of the camp. But a tentative plan was made for the two of them to return a few months later for an important sabbath, and Sam could return the annals then.

Pascoe had offered Sam the little dropper-bottle of blue liquid, but he successfully declined the gift. While it had ended up being a rather relaxing and interesting high, the liquid had temporarily destroyed his fight-or-flight instinct. It would be incredibly dangerous to voluntarily put himself in that state while on the road, where he might be attacked by Lilith's forces or hunters at any given time. Sam assured Pascoe that he'd take a raincheck until the next time he visited the coven, where they could safely indulge together.

They hit the road by two o'clock and Sam felt a twinge of regret as he pulled the Impala back onto the highway. He was more frustrated with Lilith than usual. He had wanted to spend some more time there, digging through their library, and getting to know Gabin better. It was a shame that for so much of their visit Gabin had to have been working. If he had had more time there he could've learned more about the coven's structure and activities. He may have even had a chance to improve his spellcasting skills or practice his powers in a better-equipped environment than a motel room or abandoned warehouse.

But Lilith was hard at work preparing something nasty and he still felt a burning desire for revenge. It was important to kill her, both to stop whatever she was trying to accomplish and to allow him a chance to close that chapter of his life. He didn't know what he was going to do after defeating her, assuming that he'd even survive, but he suddenly found himself wondering about the future for the first time in what felt like forever. The idea that there might be something out there for him to look forward to was unsettling and painfully hopeful. It reminded him of holding the letter from Stanford and seeing that the first word below Mr. Winchester was 'Congratulations.'

* * *

Ruby and Sam reached St. Louis in roughly a day and a half. They quickly found a motel room, then started researching Lilith's location. Ruby prepared another demon-tracking spell while Sam worked on locating her based off of the clues from his vision.

In the vision Lilith had been standing in an expensive-looking hotel room, pacing angrily while yelling at subordinates through a blood-filled bowl, the standard demonic telephone. She was threatening minions over their inability to locate Sam for over six days. It seemed that the last place Lilith's demons had managed to tracked them to was the Oregon-Idaho border, where they had been just a few hours before initially meeting with Gabin. She was nearly frantic in her drive to locate Sam. She wanted to find him, but more than that, Sam also got the impression that she was fearful of what the stretch of inactivity might mean. It had always frightened Sam when demon activity dropped off to nothing; she must have found his absence equally unnerving.

Lilith had told the blood-filled bowl that she'd only be in St. Louis until a ritual was completed, probably three more days. After that, if she didn't have intel on Sam's location she would start executing some of her underlings and finding more effective subordinates. She finished the call by throwing the bowl against the wall. Some of the blood splattered against a beautiful, arched window that overlooked a building with white, roman-style columns and a copper dome that had been aged blueish-green.

It only took a few minutes of research for Sam to determine that the building outside Lilith's hotel room window was the Old Courthouse in downtown. Based on the angle that he was able to see in the vision, he determined that Lilith was staying on one of the upper floors of the Hyatt Regency on the southwest side of the building. One quick trip down to the city archives gave Sam blueprints of the hotel, which he handed off to Ruby to perform more of the demon-locator spells.

By the end of their first day in St. Louis, they had four different locator spells running on four different maps that had been spread across all the empty floor space in their motel room. The primary demon activity for the city was definitely located in the hotel, and the bulk of the demons we're located in the southwest corner of the sixth floor. It appeared that Lilith was holed up in a suite while twelve demon guards occupied the halls and adjacent rooms. One pair of guards would patrol the hallways every five minutes, give or take, and another pair made a larger circuit that averaged ten minutes. There were also two demon standing guard outside the suite door at all times. Inside the suite, Lilith maintained two guards that rotated every few hours.

Sam and Ruby decided that their focus while in St. Louis had to be going after Lilith and that whatever ritual she had mentioned in the vision had to be a secondary priority. They still didn't know why she was orchestrating so many rituals, but they felt like the loss of the mission's leader would be more devastating than a single meddled-with ritual. Aside from weighing the respective harm, there was also the problem of not knowing what the St. Louis ritual even entailed. Lilith hadn't left the suite in the six hours they had been watching her and it was unclear if they'd be able to decipher any details of the ritual at all.

* * *

"Are we really ready to do this?" Ruby asked as she sat on the corner of one of the queen beds, looking over the locator maps while casually playing with her knife.

"This is the first time since New Harmony that we've known where Lilith will be. We can't pass up this opportunity." Sam was leaning against the wall, one arm crossing his chest, and the other rubbing his chin. He shifted his weight every few seconds betraying just how nervous he was.

"I'm just saying that this is going to be asking a lot and we're not even sure you can take her down—" Sam looked up at Ruby half-insulted, half-sympathetic to her concern, but he didn't interrupt "—yet. I'm just saying maybe we wait until we're stronger, better prepared."

"If she steps up her hunt or security…. We might not get a better chance than this. We might not get another chance at all." Sam pushed himself off the wall and walked to the blueprint of the floorplan, then squatted down next to it. The tiny dots of light slowly patrolled the hallways. "I think this is doable."

"Sure," Ruby acknowledged the possibility. "If we're careful we can probably take out the guards, but Lilith…. She's an archdemon. If push comes to shove, I'm not even sure the knife'll work."

"So how do we know when we're ready?" He wasn't trying to be confrontational; it was a serious question and he knew that neither of them had the answer. He sighed, turned to look up at her, and their eyes met. "We can't keep this up forever. We're going to have to jump at some point."

"Yeah. Let's do it." She put the knife down on the bed next to her and sat up more to gain some appearance of professionalism. "We need a game plan."

"We'll take out the patrol with the longer route. Hit them when they round the first corner out of view of the guards at the door." Sam pointed at the map while he suggested the plan. "That'll give us a two-minute window to take out the second pair of guards. From there we'll have about a minute or two before the guards at the door notice neither patrol hasn't completed their route. Once we take out the two manning the door, we should clear the adjacent rooms one at a time. Then bust into the suite, guns blazing."

"So to speak." She nodded thoughtfully as she studied the map while considering his proposed plan of attack. "These halls aren't very long and corridors carry sound like nobody's business. We're gonna have to be real quiet when taking down the patrols. And we're gonna be in deep shit if a human walks in on us killing—"

"Or exorcising," Sam corrected her out of habit. At that point, he wasn't upset that she seemed slightly more indifferent to killing than he was, but he still tried to keep her in check when he could.

"Or exorcising in the halls. The last thing we need is a good samaritan," she pointed out the potential complication. "We should do this in the middle of the night. There'll be fewer hotel guests running around if they're asleep."

"That will mean all these rooms will contain civilians that could be in danger." Sam gestured to a dozen rooms surrounding the demon occupied corner. "If we attack during the day most, if not all of them, will be empty."

"But we'll be risking any of them or a maid showing up, and do you really think that person's life will be any safer panicking in the hall with us? If they're asleep in their rooms, then there's a chance Lilith and the flunkies will overlook them completely. Hopefully, they'll be too busy choking on their own smoke to think about human shields."

Sam leaned back against the side of the bed, a foot from Ruby's right leg. He ran his fingers through his hair, then rested his face in his palms. Part of him wanted to find some way to clear the building, but he knew that that would spook Lilith. Every idea for getting the floor free of civilians was bound to alert the demons or was completely infeasible. He knew there was no good answer and that the Ruby was probably right about that point. With a little luck the demons wouldn't have enough time to think of the humans at all.

"I have a bad feeling about this." Sam had conceded the point.

"When was the last time you had a good feeling?"

* * *

They arrived at the hotel at around three in the morning in order to allow any civilians enough time to stagger back to their rooms after last call. The quiet lobby only contained two receptionists manning the front desk and a janitor mopping the marble floor. Ruby and Sam waited for a minute at the elevator banks to watch the displays above each elevator indicating its movement. When they were confident that none of the elevators were in use, they pushed the button to call for one.

Sam looked at the floor as soon as they entered the elevator. He wanted his face to be recorded as little as possible, especially now that he was about to attack and possibly kill six people in hallways that were undoubtedly being recorded. They had a miniature EMP-like spell that would shut down the elevators near them, hopefully buying them enough time to get to Lilith before security showed up, but that wouldn't solve the problem of the dozens of cameras throughout the hotel. In a perfect world they would be able to disable each camera with the spell, but they couldn't possibly knockout every camera without alerting security that something was wrong. Worse than that, in all probability a broader spell would likely accidentally kill a hallway light and put the Lilith's guards on alert.

Ruby drew her knife and double-checked a cloth bag that hung around her neck. It was a new tool she had picked up from Gabin. The bag contained a radius-effect binding spell for demons that activated when worn. It would prevent demons within a twenty-foot radius from smoking out of their meatsuit or teleporting away. The hope was that it would stop Lilith or her minions from fleeing or retrieving backup. The downside was that Ruby was also subject to the binding. She hadn't planned on abandoning Sam at all, but when she'd tried smoking out as an experiment the restriction made her feel particularly vulnerable.

When they exited the elevator, Ruby lit a small leather pouch on fire and dropped it on the floor. All six elevator doors on the fifth through seventh floors became nonfunctional, along with three lights, one courtesy telephone, a smoke detector, and three security cameras. They proceeded silently down one hall, then another, waiting just around the corner from where their first fight would take place. Ruby stood closest to the corner, dagger ready to strike if the patrol came upon them unexpectedly.

Sam closed his eyes and tried to use his powers to sense the patrolling demons. It wasn't something he'd really been practicing at, but sometimes he could feel Ruby's presence from the other side of a wall and hoped that it was something he could recreate. After a few seconds, he became vaguely aware of an approaching presence, but it was very difficult to identify or place. He used his hand to indicate to Ruby that something might be coming. She nodded in understanding.

The two-demon patrol turned the corner and stopped in their tracks. One of the demons lunged at Ruby initiating a very brief melee, which ended with Ruby's knife slitting the demon's throat. The other, smarter demon attempted to run backward and yell for help. Unfortunately for her, Sam used his powers to grab her body before it became visible to the demons guarding the suite. A particular stroke of brilliance on Sam's part was the realization that if he could manipulate a demon's body, he could probably also paralyze their vocal chords. He held the demon paralyzed and mute while wordlessly performing the exorcism. They quickly dragged the dead and unconscious bodies to just under a nearby security camera, hopefully taking advantage of a blind spot.

They continued down the hallway to intercept the other patrol. The pair of demons would be walking in the same direct as Ruby and Sam. This meant that they had to sneak up on the patrol, because every second that they were stationary, the closer their targets moved to support. Sam wasn't sure that he could hold and silence both demons at once so they attempted to close the distance as much as possible, allowing Ruby to join in any skirmish that might form. They managed to get fifteen feet from the patrol when the demons turned to look at a squeak the floor made under Sam's weight.

Ruby ran as quietly as possible and leapt forward. She stabbed one of the demons in the eye just as he let out a small cry, which was cut off by her knife. Her momentum kept carrying her forward after stabbing the demon, who was beginning to collapse. She grabbed his torso close to her body and brought his corpse into a rolling tumble that muffled some of the impact.

It took Sam only a second or two longer to exorcise his own demon the same way as before. Once he had lowered the unconscious body to the ground, he rushed over to help pull the dead body off of Ruby. They both staggered to their feet and listened for the two guards stationed at the door.

Some quiet talking was audible from around the hallway corner in the direction of the suite. Ruby looked up at Sam, then dragged her index finger across her throat. He rolled his eyes at the pessimism, grabbed her arm, and pulled her silently along in the direction of the talking.

A single guard reached the corner and saw them. She was still within view of the suite door and Ruby bit her lip in frustration at the turn. But before the guard could yell or react, Sam had grabbed her with his powers. He awkwardly manipulated her legs into a clumsy act that barely resembled walking, but it seemed sufficient to prevent the other guard from screaming for help right away. Sam decided that he needed to work on detailed movements with his demon manipulation powers—assuming he survived the next few minutes. After exorcising her, he rounded the corner, paralyzing and exorcising the second door guard within a few seconds.

They were accidentally ahead of schedule and took a second to catch their breath before attempting to clear the adjacent rooms. The plan was relatively simple: hold up an exorcised guard's body to the room's peephole, knock on the door, then when it opened rush in and try to down everyone as quietly as possible.

The first room went pretty well. There were three demons inside, one of which Ruby silenced with her knife. Sam found that he could silence the other two demons, though he struggled to restrain them. Both staggered toward him, but Ruby grabbed the one closest to her, stabbing it in the heart. With only one demon to content with, Sam easily exorcised it. Ruby looked at Sam with concern at seeing the limits of his powers, but he waved her off and crept back into the hallway.

The other adjacent room started off the same way, but Ruby and Sam only found one demon inside. There should've been at least three demons in that room based on the patterns they had observed on the maps. It was unnerving to not know exactly where the other two had gone, but the most likely scenario seemed to be Lilith's suite. That would mean that the fight originally thought to be them against Lilith and two demons, might actually end up being against Lilith and four demons. Ruby and Sam had fought four demons before and they had absolutely been planning on fighting Lilith, but doing both at the same time gave them pause.

"We're either doing this or not. We've got who-knows-how-long before somebody notices all the dead bodies," Ruby told him.

She had followed Sam that far and was prepared to continue no matter what he chose, but he needed to choose quickly. His lips thinned in a way that she didn't find reassuring, but he was decided.

"We're too close not to try."

They held the body in front of the suite door and heard the handle turn as in started to open. Dropping the guard's body, Sam kicked the door in, knocking down the demon who was answering the door. Sam ran in first, followed closely by Ruby. She paused briefly to slit the throat of the demon who'd fallen to the ground between the door and the wall. He had managed to let out part of a scream, but it didn't matter at this point.

The suite had a large, open layout so it was easy to assess the situation as soon as they were into the small entryway. Two minions were standing up from a large, glass dining table about ten feet ahead and to the left of them. They both grabbed steak knives from place settings on the table. Another demon with a pistol came running out of a doorway on the right wall five feet ahead of Sam.

Lilith was twenty feet ahead. She had been sitting in a black leather, chair gazing out the massive, arched window that overlooked the Old Courthouse. When Sam and Ruby entered, she smiled sourly at them and stood up. She wore a slightly fancier white dress than Sam was used to seeing in his visions, but otherwise she looked the same as always, giving her an eerie eternal quality.

Seeing that the closest demon was armed with a gun, Sam immediately grabbed him with his powers and began the exorcism process. The two demons with knives rushed at Sam, trying to take advantage of his temporarily vulnerable state. Ruby ran forward, putting herself between him and the demons.

Both demons attacked her at the same time. One slashed with his knife, which she was able to parry, in turn thrusting her blade forward into the first one's chest. The other demon had chosen to use a harder to block stabbing motion and she connected hard. The demon had managed to stab Ruby with enough force to embed the knife deep into her ribcage. There was a lingering moment while Ruby tried to recover from the impact and the demon attempted to yank her steak knife free of Ruby's torso.

By then Sam had finished his exorcism and was turning to help Ruby Lilith waved her hand, flinging Ruby and the female minion across the large room. Lilith began moving menacing toward Sam, ready to fight him. She raised her hand at him, but scowled when nothing happened. She paused, then began taking a few steps backward, away from him.

There was a short scream and the sound of a blade cutting through a hunk of flesh from behind the couch where Ruby and the other demon had landed. Ruby climbed up from behind the couch. The handle of the steak knife had snapped off upon her hitting the wall, but the blade was still visibly extruding from just right of her breastbone. It probably would have been a lethal injury, if she was alive. She staggered for a moment before straightening, then she began approaching Lilith, demon-killing blade in hand.

Seeing that Lilith was once more unable to use her powers against him, and that Ruby was relatively fine, Sam began moving toward Lilith. He raised his hand at her, focusing his mind. He tried to grab her, torture her, kill her—almost anything, but nothing seemed to work. Only the slightest flutter of her blonde hair was earned for all his effort. A look of worry marked his face as he glanced toward Ruby, who tightened her grip on her knife. Lilith laughed bitterly at their stalemate of powers.

"You don't have the juice to take me down. Azazel was a fool to think that you could lead us." She snarled her words and bared her teeth like a cornered predator. "I am the first of our father's! And you—you're just an abomination!" Lilith stood for a second, expecting something to happen, then frowned at Ruby. "A binding spell? Not the smartest move."

Lilith raised her hand, palm out at Ruby. It began to emit burning, white light. Sam jumping in front of Ruby as she started to crumple to the floor. He turned his back to Lilith as he tried to insulate Ruby from her attack. His arms and knees wrapped around Ruby's smaller body, holding her tightly to his chest. He covered her head as best he could. Her body convulsed and he felt a few spots of warm wetness form on his shirt.

"Do yourself a favor; don't bother running," Lilith scoffed. "I'll have them make it fast."

Sam was afraid to look back at Lilith for fear of exposing Ruby to more harm. But suddenly the light stopped and there was the sound of breaking glass behind him. He turned to see the large, arched window had been shattered. Lilith was no longer in the room. He gently lowered Ruby to the ground, then ran to the window.

Lilith's body was a contorted mess on the sidewalk below. Blood was already splattered and pooling around her. A valet ran over to look at the body when a massive cloud of black smoke poured out of the broken meatsuit's mouth. The cloud immediately tunneled into the innocent valet. Lilith turned up to face Sam, blew him a kiss, and disappeared.

Sam ran back to Ruby. She was shaking with blood trickling from her ears, nose, and tear ducts. She didn't speak, but she followed Sam's movement with her eyes in a way that comforted him. He scooped her up in his arms, knowing that at any minute Lilith would be sending in more minions to finish them off. Carrying her, he hurried down the six flights of stairs and out a fire exit. He ran two blocks, turning down the alley where they had stashed the Impala just as the first police cars were approaching the front of the hotel. He placed Ruby in shotgun and drove away from the scene as fast as he could without drawing attention.

When they were a few miles away he pulled over to check on Ruby. She was slumped against the car door, but she had stopped shaking and the bleeding had slowed. He gently reached over to pull back some of the hair that had fallen into her face and was at risk of sticking to the tacky blood. When he touched her face, she looked over at him.

"Sam?" she whispered, pausing a moment to take in what had just happened. "So this is what it feels like to shoot at the devil and miss?"


	9. A New Approach

Sam drove east across the state line, stopping a half hour later just outside of Trenton, Illinois. He found a dingy, little motel, put on a dark coat to cover his blood-stained shirt, paid cash for the room farthest from the lobby and road, then parked as close as he could to the room's door. It was around four in the morning and he was carrying a bleeding woman into his room after fleeing the scene of multiple homicides. He was half-expecting the night to go from bad to worse at any moment.

He laid Ruby down on the closest bed, then returned to the Impala for the first aid kit. She wasn't at risk of dying, but he wanted to get the knife blade out of her chest as soon as possible. She had ominously barely spoken on the drive out of St. Louis. Her demeanor wasn't the usual spitfire; it was closer to an ashing ember.

Sam sat down next to her on the bed. He took a multitool from the kit, then configured it into pliers. Reaching down, he instinctively began to pull her shirt up, but hesitated. On numerous occasions he'd wordlessly helped Dean get his shirt off before stitching up a wound, but Ruby wasn't Dean. She had breasts, one of which was only an inch above the stab wound. He was trying to find the right way of asking if he could take off her shirt when he was interrupted.

Ruby pulled her shirt up to the wired-bottom of her bra. She also pulled the breast, still mostly secured in the cup, up slightly toward her head, thus providing Sam a bit more space around the wound to work. His eyes drifted helplessly up to the dark green bra. He might've blushed but for the dizzying draining sensation that had overcome him at the sight of such a severe injury. His own blood had no idea where to flow, though thankfully it didn't venture toward his crotch.

Using the pliers in his right hand, he gripped the exposed quarter-inch of the blade's broken edge. Bracing her ribcage with his left hand, he counted down from three, and yanked out the blade. Ruby choked down a cry and bit her lower lip so hard that it bled. The knife blade was about four inches long. Sam felt like he must've turned green at that discovery.

As soon as the blade was removed the wound started bleeding profusely. The knife had probably hit her hepatic vein or heart and had been keeping a seal on the mess while it was still in. Sam ran to the bathroom to grab a towel. When he returned, he heard a sucking sound from the wound and realized that her lung had also been pierced. She would've died in no time at all if not for already being dead.

Sam held the bleached-white towel over the wound and tried to decide how to proceed. He could try to stitch the wound, but it'd be a complete mess with so much blood gushing from it. It occurred to him that the only reason that the blood was being forced out of the wound was because her heart was pumping. And as a demon that was completely unnecessary.

"Ruby, I need you to listen to me." Sam looked up from the blood soaked towel to her face. "I can't patch you up with you bleeding this much. Can you stop your heart for me?"

She was sickly-white with blood now gurgling from her mouth. Her eyes looked at him in understanding, but she didn't speak. For a moment she looked strained and then frustrated. Weakly her left hand reached up to the cloth bag around her neck that still contained the binding spell. She slipped the bag off, then tilted her head back slightly.

Black smoke spilled out of her mouth and feebly settled on the queen bed next to the body. Ruby's smoke looked pitiful compared to the usual tempest that demon-clouds resembled. Sam felt devastated for her, but focused his attention to the task of patching the wound that had suddenly become still.

"I'll get this fixed and then you can get back in her. It'll just take a minute."

He barely even noticed that he was talking to a cloud. Until then it hadn't crossed his mind whether demon-clouds could understand words and fully appreciate their environment or if it was some more primal mode fixated on locating a meatsuit. Now he was fairly confident that Ruby was still herself, even as a cloud. She had been smoke while conscientiously trying to locate an empty body per his request months ago. And in that moment she was patiently waiting next to the body as he mended it. At one point Sam could've sworn that she drifted closer to get a better view, though that posed the distracting question of how smoke-clouds could see.

After a few minutes, Sam tied off the final stitches, and gave her the go ahead to enter the meatsuit. Ruby's body gasped back to life and immediately began coughing up at least a cup of blood. Sam helped hold her upright by grabbing her shoulders. When the coughing fit had passed, he leaned her back against the headboard before going to wet a washcloth. He sat back down next to her, visibly fighting back tears.

"I'm sorry. We weren't ready." Sam apologized while wiping the blood from her chin.

Ruby reached up and touched his arm, stopping him briefly. "We couldn't... have known without trying." She spoke quietly, but with determination. "You don't need to apologize."

"We should have—"

"There's a lot of shit we should've done in hindsight." Her hand let go of his arm and instead settled on his thigh. "So stop beating yourself up. That's just doing Lilith's job for her."

He didn't reply, but continued to clean the blood from her face. She didn't fight against his help in some stupid gesture to protect her dignity. She was exhausted. More importantly, she understood that he needed to be able to nurture her for his own emotional wellbeing. The night had pushed him to the brink and he had gone to his comfort-zone: saving someone. Neither of them said anything for a long time, both appreciating the calm after the storm.

"That was a good idea, stopping the heart." She thought a compliment and a little small talk might help Sam get out of his own head. "I should try to figure out how to do that without having to leave my body."

"You couldn't just stop your heart?" he asked, still a little shaken from seeing Ruby smoking out on top of her injuries.

"I have less control over this body than I'd like. That's one of the things about meatsuits that are healthy when you grab them, sometimes they just go about their normal business."

"Wasn't your body dead? That seems pretty far from healthy." He finished cleaning the last smudge of blood from her neck.

"It was only braindead, still fully functional minus a pilot."

Sam remembered how she had breathed in her sleep. He had thought it was odd at the time, but it started to make some strange sort of sense. How did you will your lungs or heart to stop working? There were so many moving parts to a body that don't take any thought at all. Trying to manipulate the finite functions of a human-puppet must've been overwhelming at times.

He looked down at Ruby's body. Under different circumstances he'd have been aroused, sitting so close to her while she lay in bed, her shirt pulled up exposing a forest green, silk bra, as her hand rested gently on his thigh. But the pints of blood that covered the duvet and their clothes definitively killed the mood.

"The management is going to think I slaughtered a cow in here," he muttered as he took in the carnage.

"Flattery will get you nowhere." She raised an eyebrow to tease offense at the term 'cow.'

"I meant—it's just a lot of blood." Sam was too tired to catch her joke at first, but smiled with relief when he realized that she was well enough to harass him. "Are you feeling okay? Aside from the whole, you know." He pointed to the stab wound.

"Her ray of hellfire or whatever, that was…." She had no words to explain what it had felt like and that was okay with her. It was a tiny glimpse of Hell and she wanted that to stay inconceivable to Sam. "Thank you."

"We look out for each other. It's no big—"

"Don't give me that 'it's no big deal' crap," she countered. "You saved me. Hell, you even turned your back on her to protect me. I'm just saying that I appreciate it."

* * *

Ruby took a shower while Sam tried to gather everything that was bloody. He bundled the blankets, sheets, towels, and his blood-soaked clothes into a large pile. After flipping the mattress over to hide as much of the stain as possible, he transfered the unsoiled sheets from the second queen bed in the hopes that the maids would overlook the mess a little longer. Part of him wanted to set the pile of bloody linens on fire, destroy it completely, but that'd almost certainly cause a scene. Assuming that no one was dumpster diving, he could probably throw it away on their way out. The motel manager was more likely to think that the linens were stolen instead of disposed evidence.

He was still weighing his options when he heard the bathroom door open. Ruby came out wearing a clean pair of jeans and a Sonic Youth t-shirt. Her hair dangled around her, dripping water onto her shirt and the carpet. She had a small bundle of her old, bloody clothes, which she threw onto the bigger pile that he had assembled. Sam noticed the dark green bra in the mix. He tried not to let his eyes linger, but she spotted him looking and the corner of her lips curled up slightly. He decided to evade the impending teasing by getting down to business.

"Lilith's really going to come after us now." He turned away from the laundry pile, sitting down on the stripped bed. "Do you think the warding will hold up?"

"It's gonna help without a doubt, but if Lilith puts enough resources into tracking us…." She made a shrugging gesture, but it pulled on the skin around her stitches making her cringe inwardly. She sat down on the opposite bed to steady herself. "More than a few wars have been won by throwing bodies at superior technology. We're better equipped for now, but if she has enough demons to be physically turning over rocks…. It's not like these wards make us invisible."

"If we keep moving, don't follow obvious routes, maybe we could lose them," Sam suggested.

"If you want to run and hide, we can always go back to the coven. That seemed to work well enough against Lilith's scrying. The question is whether we're gonna keep going after her and screwing up whatever she's working on."

"What? I'm not—I'm not saying that we give up and hide under a rock, but you were nearly incinerated two hours ago. Now you're seriously suggesting we go at her again?" He'd been expecting Ruby to be done with that crazy vendetta of his. She'd followed him against her better judgment and suffered for it.

"I'm not suggesting anything exactly." She tried to shrug despite the discomfort from her refresh stitches and minimally-treated internal injuries. "I'm just saying that we need to think this through. I mean would you even be open to give this up?"

"I want to kill her, for everything she's done, to stop her plans... and now more than ever for my own peace of mind. We might be able to use the knife on her. She seemed scared of it." Sam knew that he was grasping at straws trying to make the task less daunting. He wanted their mission to be more reasonable, but he couldn't convince himself to sit out the fight. It was what his heart wanted and if Ruby would stay with him through this, then even that terrible situation didn't leave him feeling so conflicted. If she had wanted to quit... he wasn't sure what he would have done. "So we keep moving, do what we can to cover our asses, hope our wards give us the advantage, and I keep training?"

"Sounds like a good enough plan for now. Oh yeah, if any of her minions find us, we should kill them. We can't risk exorcising witnesses down to Hell at this point." Sam looked like he was about to object to killing possessed humans, but she cut him off. "Look, I know you hate killing humans, but it's not like we can just kill the demon without touching the meatsuit."

He raised an eyebrow at the thought. "Actually, I think I found my next homework assignment."

* * *

Sam reluctantly agreed that any demons he failed to kill with his powers had to be killed with the knife. He didn't like the arrangement, but he had to admit that it would have been laying out the red carpet to exorcise a demon at that point. Ruby had said that by the time she left Hell, every demon including the ones not under Lilith's command had known who he was. Being sent downstairs by the Sam Winchester was bound to raise attention.

Sam wasn't exactly slaughtering humans with a long life ahead of them though. He insisted that they only take demons that had ridden their meatsuit to the breaking point. When he sensed the presence of a demon within a human, he could feel how much effort the demon was using to keep the body operating on a basic level. Healthy bodies with intact human souls gave off a different energy than ones that were gravely or lethally injured but limping along under demonic influence. Even with Ruby trying to label the killings as merciful he loathed it. But in a way their rule helped motivate him to learn to kill demons faster.

It took four demons—and their battered, human prisoners—before Sam successfully killed a demon with his powers. They were lucky that in the two weeks following St. Louis, prior to mastering his new power, they hadn't been found by Lilith's minions. He would've had to fight with one hand tied behind his back, unable to exorcise and without a lethal weapon. But when the fifth demon flickered and died, they knew they were bringing up their fighting proficiency to the next level.

For her part, Ruby was trying to develop spells and tools to help them anticipate attacks and be more effective in fights. She tried designing binding spells to prevent smoking out or teleporting, but they all equally affected her, making them underwhelming. After helping Bobby repair the Colt, she had hoped she might be able to modify a ranged weapon to at least harm demons, but enchanted metallurgy was not one of her strong suits. In spite of several dead ends, she did manage to develop a few helpful spells and continued to tinker in her downtime while Sam slept.

One of her most useful creations was a repurposing of the alarm spell that she had used on the holy sites in Houston to act as an early detection system. Eight different colored glass sphere were activated every time they stopped at a motel. Each sphere would go off if a demon entered a specific area. One set of four spheres designated a certain distance radius from the motel, ranging from five miles to 100 yards. The second set of four spheres monitored quadrants of the five mile radius, so that if one of the other four alarms was tripped, they would know in which direction the demons were located. And she only felt like an idiot for the ten seconds of annoying buzzing that it took to exclude herself from tripping the alarms.

Three and a half weeks after St. Louis, Lilith's minions finally caught up to them. Sam and Ruby had successfully fled the motel before the demons had tripped the one-mile radius alarm. They would travel to a new location only to have the alarms sound. Sam had them reset the alarms several times a day in different locations, sometimes pinging the demons two or three times a day. He plotted the locations of the demons on maps to try to make sense of what was happening. The longest break they had between alarms was three and a half days.

After three weeks of mapping and running from demons, Sam suspected that they weren't being directly tracked. His theory was that the demons were covering ground like a wave, in the same way a search party might look for a missing child in the woods. Each time the demons found their motel or some evidence of them it gave a new point on the curve to adjust the search area. Sam and Ruby were traveling by car—mass transit had been abandoned after they had committed several murders on camera. If the demons formed tight-enough lines and closed in from multiple directions, the two of them would be forced to cross the line at some point, giving up their location. If they didn't turn and sneak by or charge the approaching demons, then eventually the demons would converge on them.

The best idea they could come up with was to attack one of the approaching groups, killing all the demons, and keep moving. If they could cover enough distance after breaking through the line before Lilith's minions found out about the breach, they might just be able to keep up the evasion for an extended period of time. Attacking and killing the demons on the line would only give them a headstart as long as the dead demons weren't missed, but trying to sneak by was almost more dangerous. If Sam and Ruby were found out by a demon that was allowed to live, then their real-time location would be revealed. So they decided to save sneaking for emergencies only and stick to attacking the demons head on, leaving no witnesses.

They gave their new strategy a shot, and it mostly worked. After a few weeks, they noticed that it generally took about four days after a fight for the lines to readjust and press in on them enough to initiate another fight. Sam and Ruby took the consistent frequency of these fights as a sign that Lilith had plateaued out on her resources again. It seemed like she couldn't afford to improve the quality of her manpower dedicated to finding them.

Their idea was also supported by the fact that her demons weren't particularly skillful. Instead they relied on traveling in larger groups than what they'd had prior to St. Louis. It seemed like after St. Louis, Lilith had collected an army to throw at them, given them a basic strategy to follow, and hadn't been able to infuse enough heavy hitters to make it more successful.

Which wasn't to say that the approach was completely ineffective. Ruby called it 'death by a thousand cuts' and she wasn't too far off. Sometimes it felt like Lilith was just trying to keep them preoccupied, but they took cold comfort in the fact that their skirmishes did prove to be good training for Sam. But above all else, there was a growing feeling between them that they were walking a very fine line and that some little slip-up or change of the rhythm could undo them.


	10. Flames Went Higher

Ruby nearly broke the motel room door as she threw it open, then rushed inside. She cursed and kicked a trash can across the room before Sam could even cross the threshold. Digging through a medical bag, she found a container of salve and exhaled with relief. Her leather jacket had been ruined less than a half hour ago when a demon threw a moderately-corrosive potion on her. Since then she had been trying with all her willpower to not explode in frustration.

She'd been experimenting with incorporating grenade-like thrown potions into their bag of combat tricks. It had been her latest attempt at creating a ranged anti-demon weapon. The first few attempts had worked well for when a demon was running and Sam wasn't available to grab it with his powers. She'd been able to tag the demon with a potion and it would be rolling on the ground in agony in under a minute. The best part was that the potion also temporarily prevented smoking out.

Unfortunately, that night's demon must have been a former baseball player with hands as gentle as feathers while he was a human because he had caught the damn bottle and hurled it right back at her. Ruby had managed to duck and her jacket protected her flesh from the potion, but on the drive back to the motel it had become clear that something was wrong. She had abandoned her jacket in the alley where the fight had broken out, but it was dark and they hadn't seen the trace amount of liquid that had soaked through to her outer shirt.

By the time they had reached the motel room she had discarded the button-up outer shirt and a hole had started eating through the back of her tank top. The skin covering her left shoulder blade and central back was turning an angry red. She threw Sam the healing salve and took out a small knife.

"A knife?" Sam asked.

He hovered around her with concern, but wasn't sure what she was doing, let alone how to help. She didn't reply, instead she slid the knife under the shirt and began cutting off her tank top. After cutting the right strap and side, she carefully peeled the shirt off so as not to get potion residue on any other part of her body.

Sam stopped hovering and sat on the side of his bed. He turned away from Ruby in an attempt to give her some privacy. He could feel his ears turn ever-so-slightly pink. Her bra was tossed to the ground just inside his field of view.

"Holy fuck! Now is not the time for chivalry!" she shouted when she noticed him pointedly looking away from her. "Get my back with that salve before this shit burns my ward."

He turned to look at her cautiously. She was standing two feet from him, facing away. She was completely topless and held her breasts cupped in her hands. The redness on her back looked fierce and was almost blistering.

Sam took a small scoop of the salve and gingerly rubbed it onto a portion of the red patch on her skin. Ruby groaned a little, then took a half step backward, closer to him. As he rubbed the salve over more of her back she leaned into his touch. He felt her take a deep breath and release it slowly.

He could see that the redness in her skin was fading where he applied the salve. She had relaxed visibly. Her shoulders lowered and the muscles in her neck started to loosen. He started massaging the left side of her back around the quickly-fading injury, trying to work in the remaining salve and ease the tension in her muscles. She took another half step back, standing between Sam's thighs next to the bed.

Her arms were held up slightly as she cupped her breasts, revealing the sides of her torso. From Sam's angle he could see the side and lower curve of her left breast. He felt flush. That awkward, familiar warmth started growing in his gut. He rolled his eyes upward and closed them trying to regain his composure. His hand slid a little too far along her rib cage and his fingertips grazed the side of her impossibly-soft breast. His eyes snapped open, startled by what he'd just done.

The soft skin of her chest slid under his shock-frozen hands as Ruby slowly turned around without stepping away from him. She didn't look upset or like she was about to tease him. Instead her eyes glinted mischievously back at his own, and then traveled down to stare candidly at his lips. She took another deep breath that made her chest expand and contract in his touch. Her arms lowered, then her delicate hands released her breasts and settled on Sam's shoulders. Her thumb reached up and stroked the side of his neck, tracing his jugular.

He shuddered subtly at her touch and he became painfully aware of his own body. His heart was pounding, sending a flush through him. And of course there was the fact that his pants were getting tighter by the second. He swallowed and licked his lips as anticipation began drowning out his anxiety.

He slid his hands along her waist and then upward to caress her breasts. She pressed forward, even closer to him. She pushed his legs closer together, climbed on top of his thighs, and straddled him. Gentle warmth radiated from her flesh, but it was nothing compared to the heat that was sitting on his lap.

She bit her lower lip, laced her fingers around the back of his head and leaned in. Their lips met softly at first, deceptively chaste. He inhaled sharply at the surprise that he was actually kissing Ruby. Happily taking advantage of his vulnerability, she parted her lips, tongue diving in for a deep, ravenous kiss.

Her enthusiasm overcame his shock. His ability to reason and worry melted away against his overwhelming desire. They kissed recklessly. Teeth bumped into teeth and tongues fought for dominance. Ruby bit his lower lip, causing his eyes to briefly lose focus and he squeezed her tighter. With one hand he grabbed her nape and the other gripped her waist. He bit her lip in turn and tugged, making her legs clench. The hand on her neck slid down to her chest, stopping to massage her right breast.

Her fingers moved down his chest and peeled off his shirt. They barely stopped kissing long enough to allow the shirt to be removed. Ruby leaned closer to bite his ear, breathing warmly before she descended to his neck. She kissed, sucked, and nibbled the flesh below his jaw. Sam let out a small moan, then grabbed her hips, pulling her closer to him. Her breasts pressed into his torso and her crotch slid up against the unmistakable bulge in his jeans. She smiled as she arched her spine backward to look him in the eyes.

She slowed down, looking at him like he was a cross between a work of art and prey. They both breathed heavily. Gripping his shoulders for stability, she pulled herself up so that her crotch was directly against his clothed erection. She gently straddled him through their jeans. Ruby kept eye contact the whole time, daring him to do something about it. He knew that she was getting off by teasing him, but that only made him want her more.

After a few good rubs, she leaned in to suck on his earlobe. Her fingertips traced along his abs down to his jeans and she unbuttoned his pants. Exhaling warm breath into his ear she gripped the zipper.

"You wanna go?" It was pure seduction and he felt his heart skip a beat.

Sam answered with action. He grabbed Ruby. One arm reached across her back, the other supported her ass. Lifting her, he stood and threw her onto the bed. She landed on her back, breasts jiggling slightly from the impact. She didn't move to get up. Instead clutching the sheets in her hands, she braced herself and waited to see what he was going to do.

Sam knelt onto the bed between her legs, then slowed his pace. He had the fleeting idea that he would drag everything out and torment her as best he could, but when he looked down at her he really just wanted to savor the experience. He climbed on top of her, but stopped at her chest. He gently licked her left nipple, kissed the tender flesh of the breast, then switched to the right side. His soft warm kisses moved downward. He paused briefly at the red scar he'd sewn up only a few months earlier, then kissed it too. He descended down her stomach to the top edge of her barely exposed black cotton panties.

Leaning back into a sitting position, Sam pulled off her jeans and panties in a single motion. Her legs had been lift up near his head as he removed her clothes, and he caught her left leg in his hand before it could fall back to the bed. He kissed her calf, then bit it before placing the leg onto the bed. He sliding his hands along her from ankle to upper thigh, spreading her legs. He leaned down and began kissing her inner thigh.

Without rising from between her legs, Sam glanced up at Ruby's face. She was looking across the length of her body at him. He admired the small hills of her hip bones, the way her breasts heaved, and her dark, hungry eyes. Even completely bare and exposed she radiated a strength that he revered.

His hands slid up her legs, spreading them wider. His thumbs gently pulled her open to him. Leaning in, he exhaled warmly, adding to the heat before softly kissing her clit. The touch made Ruby tense and hum quietly in pure anticipation.

Excited by her reaction, he licked and sucked at her tender flesh. She writhed against the bed. He could taste her wetness. Without missing a beat, he slid a finger into her. She clenched around him as he massaged her from the inside. After a few seconds, he pulled his finger out briefly and then inserted two fingers. She moaned as he pressed in knuckles-deep, caressing her until he found that sweet spot. She moaned loudly and tore the bedding that she had been gripping when she came. Her back arched up, but he held her hips in place as he continued eating her out until she finished. He removed his fingers as he thoughtfully kissed her most sensitive flesh. Sam crawled up her body and stole a long, penetrating kiss from her lips.

Ruby was completely riled up and reached down, undoing the remainder of Sam's pant zipper. She pushed down both his jeans and underwear in an almost desperate gesture. He kicked off the clothes without getting up, then leaned down, pressing against her. He rubbed his hard cock against her incredibly sensitive clit a few times while kissing her. Wanting to entice him more, Ruby bit his lip playfully.

He pulled backward slightly, to line up her pussy with the tip of his dick. He had wanted to draw out the moment, but she was so wet and he was so eager that his head started to slide into her. He looked into her alluring, dark eyes, and she locked his gaze. She chewed her lower lip and stroked her right nipple without breaking eye contact.

Sam had reached his limit. He just wanted to fuck her, taking her as hard as he could. She moaned loudly and tore the sheets even more as he pushed into her. He only entered a few inches at first, then pulled out slightly before thrusting fully into her. She felt overwhelmed, spread wide around him. She cried out. With every thrust she was overcome, feeling his raw power. She felt like he was going to break her at the seams, but she found her hands had gripped his body, pulling him deeper into her. She tried to take him in as much as possible.

Trying to push even deeper, he used one hand to brace Ruby's shoulder, which prevented her from sliding backward with each powerful thrust. He pressed deeper inside of her, earning louder moans. As he thrust, he rubbed against her sensitive clit. Ruby could feel that beautiful blend of pleasures clouding her other senses. A familiar tingling grew in her, and she only wanted more. Sam had also started losing himself in the sensation of her tight, supple pussy. He gave into instinct, and thought of nothing beyond chasing a deeper high.

Ruby's lower back was lifted off the bed several inches, allowing Sam a better angle to push even deeper. He was too consumed with the raising heat of his building orgasm to notice that Ruby hadn't lifted herself off the bed. For a fleeting second she was surprised that her ass had been picked up while Sam's hands were by her head, but Sam's even deeper thrusts pushed her over the top and she couldn't think at all. She came hard—again—and let out a loud quivering moan that bordered on speaking in tongues. She clenched and pulsed around Sam, pushing him over the edge. The sound and feeling of Ruby's orgasm proved too much. Sam thrust in as deeply as he could, coming longer and harder than he had thought possible.

They were both panting for air, skin flush and sweaty. He pulled out of her, still a little lightheaded. A slight groan escaped him as he realised that her wonderful tightness was going to leave him sore in a few minutes. Sam rolled onto his back next to the completely blissed-out Ruby.

* * *

"Did I just sell my soul?" Sam asked as his head started clearing a bit.

"I don't remember you buying anything."

Ruby rolled to the edge of the bed and started reaching around on the floor trying to find her panties. Sam was momentarily transfixed watching the way her spine curved, hips accentuated—but he snapped out of it.

"Wait a second." It started sinking into Sam's mind what they'd actually done.

Ruby stopped with her black cotton thong slipped half way up her left leg and turned to face him. "You wanna go again?" She raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Sam was a little dumbfounded. He'd been planning on talking in an attempt to mitigate the awkwardness of the one-time lapse in judgment. Yes, he found her attractive. Yes, he admired her as a person. But she was his partner on the job and it was a mess to mix in feelings. As soon as he thought that he felt like a hypocrite. He'd been emotionally invested in every other person he'd ever worked with, but this was different. In the past, they had all cared for him in return, but with Ruby…. He wasn't sure what she was capable of feeling.

"No—I mean, maybe—but that wasn't what I was getting at," he managed despite being flustered. "It's just—I mean— Seriously? This isn't going to be an 'Oh my god, we shouldn't have done that. Let's not,' kind of thing?" He'd pantomimed the regretful statements.

"Wow. Tell a girl how you really feel." She wasn't actually offended. Sam was just being awkward. Actually, she found it oddly endearing. "You can put this one in the same column with drunken mistakes and one-night stands if you want, but this doesn't have to be weird and it doesn't have to be a one-time thing. You know, it might be good to occasionally work off some steam outside of a fight to the death."

She was suggesting a friends-with-benefits-style arrangement. An alarm sounded in Sam's head. When he really was honest with himself he knew that he had feelings for Ruby. He wouldn't call it love, but maybe a slight crush. She was incredibly important to him; more important than he would ever admit to her. And he could absolutely envision himself eventually getting hurt if they started having casual sex. Ruby liked him, but he knew that a real relationship wasn't in the cards. But an impulsive and reckless desire suggested that if he knew from the beginning that it was only sex, maybe he could stop himself from wanting something more.

"Well, the offer's open," she said when he didn't immediately respond. "I'm gonna grab a burger. Want me to pick you up anything?"

He shook his head, lost in a debate between lust and emotional self-preservation. She slipped on a fresh pair of dark jeans and a The Donnas t-shirt with a torn left sleeve, then left the motel room. Sam leaned back on the bed, too deep in thought to even care that he was still naked. He wondered how many months of celibacy he would need to somehow endure before he had cooled off.

He caved four days later and never looked back.

* * *

It was only a matter of time before another hunter caught up with them. The protective wards were helpful; after all, they didn't have demons raining down as heavily as it could've been. But the wards weren't an absolute solution to their problems either. Hunters tracked prey professionally and very few relied on scrying or luck to get the job done. So when Sam and Ruby ran into one at an abandoned ranch outside of Billings, Montana, they were disappointed but not surprised.

In the two and a half months since St. Louis, Sam had made significant changes to his training regimen. He tried to balance his time between physical and psychic combat training, but he found himself using fists and weapons in a fight with decreasing frequency. Also, the psychic powers Sam was most proficient in were demon-based: exorcism, killing demons, sensing demons, having visions related to demonic activity, discerning their strength, and manipulating both their smoke and meatsuits.

He had used telekinesis on non-demonic people and objects before so he knew that his powers weren't limited to interactions with demons. But for whatever reason his non-demon-based powers were much harder to control. The three times he'd used telekinesis in the real world, it hadn't been intentional. He had moved a cabinet to help him save Dean's life over a year earlier. He had thrown the two hunters who had attacked Ruby and were planning on killing him. Then he'd nudged the conjured flower while he was high. But when he would focus intently on moving a penny even an inch in a controlled environment, it would just give him a headache. It was like his telekinesis was instinctual and incompatible with discipline. The closest thing he routinely felt to wielding his telekinesis was occasionally feeling like he had delivered a little extra force in a punch or kick.

As a result of Sam's uneven training style he was not very well-equipped to fight hunters. He was still valuable in a brawl or shootout, but so were most hunters. His real advantage was his diverse pairing with Ruby, who as a demon had weaknesses that didn't overlap with his own.

The hunter had no idea that Sam and Ruby had spent months being continuously pursued by demons, making the pair borderline paranoids in their attention to details. Sam had noticed that they were being tailed after only ten blocks in moderately dense traffic. Granted, it didn't help the hunter that his black Dodge Dakota had a North Carolina license plate in the middle of Montana. Sam subtly circled around downtown and then down the same highway that had taken into Billings that morning. He found the abandoned ranch that he had stopped by to stretch his legs after the long drive across North Dakota. The ranch seemed to be as good a place as any to have a fight and, sure enough, the hunter obliged.

The fight couldn't be called fair, but fighting fair didn't count for much with a hunter trying to kill them. Ruby teleported from shotgun into hiding before the hunter even pulled off the road. Sam played the bait, walking into a barn that barely had any walls left. He made sure the hunter saw where he went, but was careful to keep obstacles between them. The hunter drew a pistol, then silently followed him in, just as Sam ducked into hiding behind a large pile of debris. Before the hunter could look around the corner where Sam had disappeared, Ruby clicked her tongue behind him. The hunter spun, shot her in the stomach as Sam jumped out and got him in a chokehold. Ruby grabbed the hand with the gun to prevent any further injuries while Sam subdued the hunter.

They stripped the unconscious hunter naked and checked him for tattoo, brands, or any other sort of magical markings. He had an anti-possession tattoo of a different design than the one on Sam's left shoulder. Sam pointed to the tattoo and shrugged in suggestion, but Ruby looked less-than-thrilled by the idea of possessing him for intel. They tied him to a large support column in the middle of barn, turning his hands palm outward before binding him to leave his wrists ominously exposed. They placed a cloth bag over his head, then waited for him to wake up.

Ruby volunteered to play bad cop. When he stirred awake, she removed the bag from the man's head while Sam stood silently behind the column. Sam didn't want to take the lead on the interrogation, even if he was a hunter instead of a civilian. But that didn't mean that Sam could just leave Ruby alone with their captive and pretend like the unpleasantness wasn't happening. He wouldn't allow himself to imagine that he was better than that because in their desperation he really wasn't. Maybe when he was younger he would have been appalled at the idea of torturing a human for information, but at that point the prisoner's humanity mattered less than their culpability. The man before him was a seasoned hunter after all; he should have known the risks of the job.

Ruby didn't have a particular aversion to hurting humans that she didn't already have a vested interest in, especially if it was to her advantage, but she knew Sam was uncomfortable with the concept. Since Sam had to watch, she tried to start easy on the hunter.

"What's your name?" she asked, arms crossed in front of her, knife prominently displayed on her belt. She waited a few seconds, but he didn't say anything. "Fine. I had hoped that he could just have a little chat and part ways, but if you're going to be difficult, then I have to be difficult too."

She drew her knife and dragged it along the hunter's right arm. He cringed, holding in a cry as a line of blood quickly formed. The cut didn't cross any major veins or go deep enough to be a serious health risk, but it did venture into the nerve-dense skin near the inside of the wrist. She moved the knife over a few inches, about ready to take another drag, then looked the hunter in the eyes.

"I'm not… going to tell you anything." His voice shook at first, but he regained his composure.

She sliced up and down his arms and stomach for fifteen minutes without success before deciding to switch techniques. She may have been hellspawn, but she wasn't one of the Torquean caste, skilled in torture. Also, he was stubborn; she definitely had to give the hunter that.

Ruby stepped back to grab a bottle of brown liquid from her duffel bag a few feet away. The hunter looked around the barn, turning his body as best he could to see behind him, but his bindings restricted his range of motion. Even so, Sam silently leaned away from his field of view. The reason for the quick check of his surrounds became clear when the hunter began reciting an exorcism incantation. He had waited until Ruby was too far to reach him and the barn appeared empty except for the two of them. Ruby collapsed to the ground at the incantation. In a second Sam was standing next to the hunter, one hand gripping the man's hair, the other holding a knife to his throat.

The hunter immediately stopped the exorcism. "So you aren't a demon." It seemed he was more eager to talk to Sam.

"I'm just a human," Sam replied as he moved his knife a quarter of an inch away from the hunter's neck.

"Bullshit."

"I don't want to hurt you." The hunter opened his mouth, but Sam continued, "But I will in a heartbeat if you push me."

The hunter paused while Sam circled around in front of him. Sam put his knife back into its sheath, then walked over to Ruby. She was on her hands and knees, trying to shake off the painful disorientation of the attempted exorcism. Sam offered her a hand up, which she accepted. She shot the hunter a vicious glare before dusting off her pants.

"Tell us what we want to know and we'll let you go," Sam offered in a tone that was calmer and colder than he had expected.

"Don't try to play me like that, boy. You killed good people, my friends. I'd rather die than help you." The hunter spat on the ground.

Sam wanted to rub the bridge of his nose in annoyance, but didn't want to his frustration to be misperceived as weakness. "If you're talking about the two hunters in Philadelphia, they tried to kill me—"

"I tried to kill you," the hunter aptly pointed out.

Sam's jaw clenched as he tried to think of how to respond. Suddenly, he had been put on the defensive. The hunter had struck the nerve more than he had realized. Sam knew that his natural aversion to ruthlessness toward his enemies was waning, forcing him to make a more conscious effort to moderate himself. The idea that he might let that bleed into his gentler everyday demeanor worried him. So the suggestion that his reasoning might be consistent with needlessly killing a prisoner was disconcerting.

Sensing that Sam was uncomfortable, the hunter decided to take an attempt at another jab. "You know how it is. You used to be one of us, for fuck's sake! You don't get to play that pity crap on me. You're a damned monster! You can go fuck yourself!"

"Fine. I'm done trying to coax this shit out of you like a fucking human," Ruby said, thoroughly tired of the hunter. She had been frustrated by the exorcism assault and her failed attempt to break him, but his verbal attack on Sam put her over the edge. She knew that that encounter would trouble Sam for a long time. She walked up to the hunter and dragged her knife across his anti-possession tattoo, then sat down on the ground. "You came here to fight a monster. Prepare to get your soul reamed hard by one."

Before Sam or the hunter could say anything, smoke poured out of Ruby's body and dove into the hunter. She hadn't been a fan of the idea of possession when Sam had wordlessly suggested it earlier. Demons could generally overpower humans for control of a body, but hunters were often strong-willed and emotionally scarred, resulting in an unpleasant experience all around. Furthermore, she liked her female body and the thought of letting it slowly die on the ground while she dug through some guy offended her. She'd wanted to make the physical torture work, but in her fury she decided to tear his soul a new one in the process of taking the information they sought.

Sam caught her body before its head hit the ground. He lowered it down gently, then watched the hunter's body. It twitched and spasmed, eyes wide staring at nothing in particular. After a minute or two, Ruby's cloud flew out of the hunter's body, which immediately went limp. She returned to her body, sat up, and looked at Sam. Her expression was flat in a way that worried him.

"His name is Nelson Reed," Ruby explained. "He's a hunter out of Charlotte, North Carolina. There's a bar there that's a local hangout for hunters. One of the waitresses is Clare, who claims to have visions. He knows six other hunters who go to that bar, including the two in Philly."

"Why are they coming after me?" Sam asked.

"You know how I used to joke that you were the antichrist? Turns out Clare thinks it's true. She's been preaching about the coming end times or something." Ruby grabbed her knife and looked at it thoughtfully.

"Seriously? What is it with these mission-from-God hunters?" Sam ran his fingers through his hair.

"He is from North Carolina." Sam just stared at her, confused, so she added, "Give me a second to take care of this guy and then I can spend days telling you all about my feelings on the Confederacy."

"You know the Civil War ended like 150 years ago."

She didn't reply to his observation; she was too busy staring at the hunter. Her eyes narrowed and she chewed her lip absentmindedly.

"I know we were gonna wipe his memory and dump him, but I really want to kill him." She couldn't decided if she was asking for permission or just prefacing her next murder.

"Killing another one of Clare's hunters is just going to just piss them off at us even more. If we spare them maybe they'll see it as a sign of goodwill," Sam suggested. He could tell she was on a ledge and needed talking back from acting out of a rage he didn't fully understand. "There's something you're not telling me?"

Ruby continued to glare at the unconscious hunter. She knew that killing the hunter would not only upset his hunter pals further, but more importantly it would hurt Sam. If she killed the hunter Sam would be more likely to take his words to heart.

"He's done things." She pursed her lips. "If I told you, you might let me kill him. But they happened years ago and don't affect us."

Sam watched her for a moment, unsure of what she'd do. If she made a move to kill the hunter, he wasn't sure that he'd try to stop her. He didn't like that she was leaving him in the dark, but in the end he trusted her. She sighed and started preparing the spell.

Ruby wiped the hunter's memory for the last month. It was fairly complicated, taking thirty minutes to perform. When she had initially mentioned the spell to Sam, he'd been hoping that they could weaponize it somehow, but it proved too involved and the risks associated with a misfire could be devastating.

They left the hunter wrapped in a blanket in front of a church-run homeless shelter. Ruby had been uncharacteristically quiet on the drive to the shelter. Walking back to the Impala after dropping the body, Sam put his arm around her. To his surprise, she didn't pull away. Instead she reached over and held onto the side of his jacket. He gave her a comforting squeeze and gently kissed the top of her head before they wordlessly climbed into the car.


	11. Falling Stars

They were driving through south-central Tennessee on an abnormally warm spring night. Ruby was at the wheel, giving her authority over the iPod that Sam had purchased along with a car adapter. She was tapping her fingers to Soul Coughing's "Monster Man" when she noticed Sam acting oddly. He was checking his watch and scowling at the dark, overcast sky.

"Something wrong?" she asked as she turned the volume down slightly, then leaned back in the seat adopting a more inviting posture.

"No. Not really…. It's nothing." He was acting too dodgy, almost embarrassed.

"It's something. So, spill it. You've got me curious now." From the corner of her eye, she watched him play with his watch anxiously.

"It's just that there's supposed to be a meteor shower right now and we're far enough from any city that the light pollution shouldn't be a problem, but this cloud cover is…." He trailed off, looking a little dejected.

"You want to watch the meteor shower." Ruby hadn't meant that to come out as patronizing, but Sam braced himself for her to make fun of him. Clearly it was important to him if he was so prepared to suffer hurt feelings.

It was a nice change of pace to see Sam focusing on something other than demons, hunters, and the continuing fight for survival. It'd been too long since he'd done something for himself. Embracing their new sexual relationship over the last month and a half had definitely helped, but she still worried about him. Aside from the time with the coven and when they were having sex, she didn't see Sam fully enjoying himself. The near-constant danger obviously put a strain on their lives, but he wasn't embracing the small pleasures, like music, as she was able to. During Sam's initial period of depression, Ruby had hoped that the mission to kill Lilith would give his life purpose again, but recently she'd come to realize that purpose wasn't the same thing as happiness. But maybe wanting to watch the meteor shower meant he was finally starting to want more from life.

"Okay." Her voice was determined as she nodded to herself.

She pulled off of the road, directly into a large, grassy field. Sam, startled by the sudden turn, gripped the edge of the bench seat and braced against the dashboard. All feelings of embarrassment were left back on the highway; he was too distracted by Ruby's detour. About eighty feet from the road, she stopped the car.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Sam was still stunned by veering into a field at night at fifty miles an hour.

"This is as good a place as any," she said as she climbed out of the car, then ducked her head back in to look at Sam, who hadn't moved an inch. "Come on. We're gonna make this happen."

Sam followed her to the trunk, still trying to understand what she was getting at. She pulled out a bottle of white powder and a red blanket, the latter of which she threw to him. Moving back around the passenger side of the Impala, she grabbed a book of maps from the glovebox, and proceeded to the hood. She flipped through the book until she found one depicting their current location, then placed the open book on the Impala. Ruby unstopped the bottle, pouring a thin coating of powder over the area where they were located. Putting down the bottle, she placed one hand over the small circle of powder and the other hand she held up to the sky. She recited an incantation for a few minutes, then relaxed, dropping both arms to her sides.

Looking up at Sam with a playfully smug expression on her face, Ruby gently blew the white powder off the map. As the powder blew away, uncovering their location on the map, the clouds above them blew away. Within seconds the clouds had been completely pulled back, exposing a clear night sky full of stars and falling meteorites.

Sam's mouth fell open, both from shock and delight. Ruby had cast many spells around him in the past, but that was easily the most visually impressive.

"Totally worth a little flash flooding in Chattanooga, right?" Ruby winked at him. "You better throw down that blanket. I'm not gonna strain my neck by standing all night."

Sam spread out a blanket on the grass next to the Impala. He laid down, knitting his fingers together and placed his hands below his head to act as a pillow. His legs were too long to fit on the red flannel blanket, but the grass was dry so he didn't mind. It was a wonderfully-mild night, warm enough that he wasn't even wearing his jacket. To Sam's relief, mosquitoes largely avoided him since Ruby had increased his demon-blood content. It seemed he was no longer deemed fit to be snacked on.

Ruby finished putting away the map and her magic supplies, then joined him. At first she sat cross-legged next to him, staring up at the sky as a few meteors flashed in and out of view. Her expression turned briefly to that of a child watching fireworks. Sam watched the meteors, but couldn't help watching her too. After a few minutes, she turned to glanced down at Sam who quickly looked around pretending that he hadn't just been blatantly staring at her.

"This was a good idea, astronomy boy." She smiled and repositioned so that she was lying next to him. She shifted trying to find a more comfortable position and riggled into the crook of his right side. Her head rested on his arm like a pillow. "How'd you know about this anyway?"

"Email. I'm on a mailing list for astronomical events. Occasionally it came in handy on hunts, but it's also just fun. I always enjoyed this kind of stuff."

"I never really got into astronomy or astrology. They've been adding new planets my whole life and now they're taking one away. I'm not ready to deal with all that uncertainty." She swept her right hand across the sky.

"I'm less interested in the planets; it's always been the stars that called out to me. I used to love to just spend nights when we were away from the cities lying on the hood of the Impala watching them. They're just so beautiful. Hell, I even wrote an English term paper on a poem because it talked abo—" He pursed his lips at the realization that in his reminiscing he'd opened himself up to teasing. "You're going to make fun of me for that."

"It's definitely a possibility." Ruby ran her fingertips along the zipper of her brand new leather jacket. She didn't look at him. "Which poem?"

"Shakespeare's Sonnet 14, 'Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck.'" He hadn't planned on elaborating, but Ruby glanced up at him expectantly so he cautiously continued.

"Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,  
And yet methinks I have astronomy;  
But not to tell of good or evil luck,  
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;  
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,  
Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,  
Or say with princes if it shall go well  
By oft predict that I in heaven find.  
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,  
And, constant stars, in them I read such art  
As truth and beauty shall together thrive  
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert:  
Or else of thee this I prognosticate,  
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date."

"Holy shit. You just have that thing memorized? You must've been a theater kid or something. Did you do 'Midsummer'? Did you wear tights?" Ruby grinned, fighting back a small laugh at the mental image.

Sam tensed and rolled up onto his left elbow, getting ready to eject Ruby from his right arm. "Hey. You can't encourage me and then make fun of me for it."

"No such luck, pre-law. I didn't agree to that," she replied, but she gripped onto the side of his shirt with her left hand and started stroking his chest with her right hand in an attempt to soothe him.

Sam relaxed slightly at Ruby's gentle touch and laid back down. He decided that she hadn't intended to embarrass him; she was just used to swinging at low-hanging fruit.

"It was implied."

"You're really gonna argue contracts with a demon? Anyway, don't be embarrassed about knowing stuff like that. It's good to be well-rounded. I like that even though you have the life and spirit of a fighter, you're still such a hopeless sentimental." Her right hand stopped to rest over his heart and she bit his bicep softly. "Don't ever change."

They laid there together silently watching that sky for a long while. Sam eventually shifted his arms to stop them from going numb, but Ruby wouldn't give up her improvised pillow. So he ended up wrapping his right arm around her, supporting her head with his shoulder.

"Do you still pray?" She had almost whispered the question.

Months before Dean's death, she had been spying on Sam and noticed him praying briefly while his brother was in the bathroom. It was a hasty action. He had sat on the edge of his motel room bed, folding his hand and lowering his head. He shut his eyes and mouthed some words before glancing over his shoulder at what was probably the sound of Dean finishing up in the bathroom.

She hadn't seen Sam do anything remotely resembling prayer in all of the time that she had spent by his side since Dean's death. For the most part it didn't bother her. She had never really been a believer even after discovering firsthand that there was an afterlife. But she knew that that sort of faith was important to others and if Sam had been hiding it from Dean he was obviously protective of it. The idea of Sam losing something so important to him was unsettling.

"No." His body had tensed again briefly at the question and he struggle to relax. "I thought that maybe there was something out there... that might save Dean. But I don't know. I just don't feel it the way I used to. Maybe there is no Heaven or anything. Learning about Hell was reaffirming for me, but after Dean died…. Maybe the existence of evil doesn't prove the existence of good? Maybe it's not that simple? I mean, I actually died once for a day or two and looking back there was just nothing." He realized how introspective he was being and redirecting the conversation outward. "You've been to Hell and back a few times. Any thoughts on Heaven?"

"My betting money is on no Heaven, but it's never been the kinda thing I dwell on. It's not gonna make a difference to me anyway."

His brow furrowed and he glanced down at her. "What do you mean?"

"I'm a demon, remember. My soul's already broken and I don't think any amount of saving kittens from trees is gonna change that." She stared thoughtfully at the streaks of white light falling across the sky. "This is as close to Heaven as I'll ever get." She immediately bit her lip. "Shit! I didn't mean it to come out like that. You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Now who's the hopeless sentimental?" Sam looked incredibly smug, raising an eyebrow. Ruby shoved him in the ribs halfheartedly. She knew he would tease her relentlessly with her nearly-romantic slip of the tongue.

"Fuck you."

"Yeah. That was my plan." He smiled mischievously, then kissed her.

* * *

The five angels flew downward, camouflaged in the flickering light of the meteor shower. They descended to the Earth and beyond. Shockwaves incinerated the demons around them as they crashed into the bedrock of Hell. The group had been tasked with rescuing the Righteous Man before the Archdemon Alastair broke him. Ralmiel, Etlindial, and Wendael died in the fighting trying to reach Alastair's private dungeon. Ardinel fell at the hands of Alastair's private guard. Castiel was the only one in zir party to actually lay eyes on the Righteous Man.

He was already broken. His soul was a twisted and torn echo of his former self. He had endured seventy years of torture, each day ending with the offer to end his pain if he instead inflicted it on others. But one day he couldn't take it any longer. The Righteous Man took up the archdemon's blade. He became student to the master of pain, Alastair, Master of the Torquean.

For twenty years, the Righteous Man had practiced the art of carving a human soul into a demon, and every gouge he inflicted unconsciously cut him in return. He had walked a longer road into damnation than a normal human because he was the Righteous Man. There was more beauty to tarnish, more spirit to destroy. He was dangerously close to losing the final fragments of his humanity when he saw a light that pushed the blackness from his eyes.

The angel's human vessel was barely visible in zir silvery-blue glow. In Hell, the angel's grace manifested around zir and stretched backward into massive, beautiful wings. The sight of the angel made the Righteous Man fall to his knees, dropping Alastiar's blade in awe and remorse. The light from the angel was fiercely powerful but as comforting as salvation.

The angel reached out and clutched his ravaged soul. The Righteous Man's very essence was naked and exposed like a raw nerve. Everything he had ever touched in Hell had burnt and scarred his very being, but the strange figure of light was relief incarnate. He allowed himself to be gripped by the glowing creature and began to weep as they started their ascent from Hell.

Severely injured and helpless to retrieve the bodies of zir fallen siblings, the angel looked down at the human soul they had risked everything to save. He was nearly beyond repair, but beneath the pain his soul still shone brighter than any the angel had ever seen before. The soul was worn thin, still weeping and shivering with fear even after being removed from the pain. The angel felt a stir of an unknown sensation and was overcome by what zie would later learn was pity and concern. In that moment zie wanted to comfort the soul, more than anything.

The angel had been holding the soul, but instead began to embraced him. Cradling the soul in zir arms, zie could feel the tears and shaking subside. He was no longer feeling the echoes of blades along his flesh or even the guilt of what he'd done. All the Righteous Man felt was the joy of being saved, of being loved. He cried again, but they were tears of relief. The angel embraced the Righteous Man tightly against zirself, trying to engulf him in the comforting grace of zir presence. The Righteous Man shuddered with pleasure and moaned slightly in newfound rapture. The angel held him even tighter, though zie knew deep down that that indulgence into affection might very well be zir downfall.


	12. Omens & Omissions

It had been a mistake to venture into New Mexico during summer. Sam and Ruby had wanted to take a more northern and therefore cooler route. Unfortunately, they had found themselves in northwest Texas while there were a lot of demonic omens throughout Colorado and Kansas so they had been given the choice of backtracking east where they had just come from or continuing into the massive oven known as the southwest.

There were several reasons why Sam and Dean had avoided hunting in drier climates. The air conditioning in the Impala left a lot to be desired and there were comparatively fewer roads. Also, their dad had once gone off-road for a hunt in Arizona, gotten severely dehydrated, and swore never to go hunting in 100° weather again. As a result, Sam was essentially unfamiliar with that corner of the country and didn't want to be there any longer than they had to.

It was Sam's turn driving, but he had offered the choice of music to Ruby. All day long she had looked miserable. She was sweating in her snug jeans and black tank top. Her right elbow rested against the door while her hand was being used to help hold up her head. She seemed tired. It was like the heat was suppressing her normally talkative and playful demeanor. A particularly energetic song came on, Eagles of Death Metal's "Flames Go High," but Sam noticed that she wasn't even tapping her foot let alone shouting her usual off-key singing. He pull off Highway 40 at the first diner he could find. She looked over at him in confusion, but didn't voice any objection.

"We need to stop," he told her. "You look awful and I could use some food."

He grabbed his laptop bag while climbing out of the car and was followed shortly by Ruby. They entered the diner, grabbing the first table they could. Sam signaled to the waitress asking for water, then he reached across the table to Ruby, touching her face. She frowned slightly, but allowed it. Her skin was clammy, but not as warm as he'd expected.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked. "Because you seem off. I think you might have heat stroke or something. Can you even get heat stroke?"

"I don't know, about the heatstroke thing." She rubbed her face before taking a deep breath. "I feel drained. This heat, the running and all the spells—"

The waitress dropped off two glasses of ice water and a pair of menus for them, then left to check on another table. Ruby took a sip of the water and looked a little pained. It worried Sam. He knew that she could get worn out if she overused her magic, but this seemed wrong. She'd been casting the same number and complexity of spells every day for months, but recently she had lost some of her edge. It was possible that there was a cumulative effect that was finally beginning to show.

"You need to take it easy on the magic. Let yourself rest a bit. You can teach me the spells and I'll take over for a while. Anyway, it'd be good for me to know in an emergency." He didn't want to say 'if something happens to you' but the evaded implications hung in the air.

The waitress came back for their order. Sam ordered a veggie burger with avocado and a side of green chile corn sopapillas. Ruby ordered a regular burger with a side of seasoned fries, and declined the waitress' offer to upgrade them to chili fries. Sam could've sworn the suggestion of covering her glorious french fries in anything other than ketchup made Ruby's skin flash sickly green, but it passed quickly.

After ordering, Ruby went to the restroom to go splash some water on her face, leaving Sam alone at the table. He opened up the laptop and then set his phone to act as a wifi hotspot. He began researching to see if there were any new demonic omens in their corner of the country. Sam opened up half a dozen bookmarked pages in different tabs and looked around the diner while waiting for them to load.

He spotted a small rack of postcards by the cash register. He walked up to the selection and found one that featured a picture of the desert at sunset. It had been over a week since Sam had mailed Tom a little souvenir of their travels so he bought the postcard and started writing out a short greeting. He never signed the letters or postcards for some paranoid fear that it might be intercepted, but the coven knew who the cards were from. None of the cards ever mentioned the difficulties that Sam and Ruby faced, but instead focused on the places they went or fun anecdotes. Writing those cheerful vignettes always brightened Sam's mood by forcing him to think about the positive aspects of the previous few days.

He jotted down a little story and drew a lumpy-looking armadillo as the web pages finished loading. After moving the postcard safely away from the glasses of water, Sam started tabbing through the pages looking for new developments. Lightning storms, cattle deaths, and diseased crops marked demonic omens that continued to circle ominously in central Colorado, but the thing that caught Sam's eye was the omen cluster that hadn't moved at all in the last two days. It was located directly in the center of the circling demon groups.

Ruby returned from the bathroom as he was looking up details on the location of the unmoving demons. A few seconds later the waitress dropped off their meals. Sam continued reading while he ate one of the sopapillas. Ruby nibbled at her burger and fries while watching his signature intense-research face. After a few minutes she decided to interrupt his concentration to find out what was so interesting.

"Find anything?" She played with one of the seasoned fries, dipping and dragging it through her massive pool of ketchup to make little swirls.

Without looking up from his laptop he replied, "I think I may have found one of Lilith's upcoming tasks."

Ruby abandoned the fry on the plate, giving Sam her undivided attention. "Cute and brainy. What'd you find?"

"Well, I think in two days—" He started, but was cut off when Ruby bit her lip and raised an interrupting finger.

"Lilith wouldn't be planning anything for the next few days. Tomorrow's the start of the High Holy Season." Ruby mentally kicked herself for not having told Sam earlier, but for the last week or so she'd been feeling abnormally tired and forgetful.

"The what?" Sam looked completely dumbfounded, causing Ruby to briefly question whether she'd even spoken English. Instead she realized that this was likely just another instance of him not appreciating that demons had a more complex existence than cartoonish devils.

"It's a holy time for demons. Demons can't do violence except in defense and they can't make deals for souls or perform major rituals."

"They? You mean you can, but not the rest?" His brow was still furrowed, but at least he was able to ask follow-up questions.

"It's not like it's physically impossible for demons to do those thing. It's just a major cultural institution that they'd be violating," she explained. "The High Holy Season is a celebration of Lucifer's fall and the creation of Hell. So it's kinda like the Devil's birthday—yeah, it's basically Hell's Christmas. Everyone gets it off work and the religious castes take it way more seriously. Maji usually celebrate by holding sabbath with their covens, but nothing too exciting. Lilith is archdemon to the hardcore zealots' caste, so it'd take major stakes for her to be taking the initiative on anything substantive for the next few days."

"How long does demon-Christmas last?" The concept of demons celebrating holidays had come as a shock, but once he'd gotten over his surprise, Sam started trying to find a way to use this opportunity to their advantage.

"Forty days in Hell, so…." She did some quick math. "Just over three days on Earth."

"Three days when demons are more vulnerable. How have I not heard about this?"

"The High Holy Season only comes around every 1,800 years plus or minus in the pit, so it happens…." She ran a few more calculations in her head. "Around every fifteen years or so up here. Maybe the hunting community just never caught the pattern? I mean, until recently there hasn't been a strong demon presence on Earth in centuries."

"I guess…. So, is this the time to go after Lilith?"

"She's still perfectly capable of arming herself to the teeth and defending herself," Ruby warned him. "No, I don't think this really gives us an advantage on her. It just gives us some time when she isn't going to sneak up behind us. Unless she really thinks it's a life or death situation, she won't make any moves."

"If she really is up to something in the next three days though, it's probably really important," Sam pointed out, creating an uncomfortable silence as they considered the significance of any hypothetical action.

"You really think she's angling to do one of her sixty-four tasks in the next three days? She'd be damn near committing a mortal sin to work one of those so, yeah, it'd have to be a big deal." Ruby saw him look at his laptop thoughtfully. "What did you find?"

"There's a group of omens clustered in the-middle-of-nowhere, Colorado, and it looks like there are surrounding groups protecting it. The only thing noteworthy that ever happened there was a massacre of sixty-six people in a church one hundred years ago from the day after tomorrow." Sam looked up to meet Ruby's eyes. Neither of them wanted to spend their vacation from demonic assault voluntarily confronting Lilith's minions. They'd been doing nearly everything in their power to avoid demons since St. Louis, but that discovery and their proximity demanded their attention, even if Ruby wasn't feeling one hundred percent.

"That does seem like too much for a coincidence," she conceded, resigning herself to the idea of investigating the demonic activity.

"If the demons are on holiday, we can probably sneak by the outside groups a bit easier and hit the center. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does." Ruby pushed her half-eaten burger and barely-touched fries a few inches away from her. "Sounds like we're going north. At least it won't be so fucking hot."

* * *

Dean crawled out of his grave. The whole ordeal took only a few panicked minutes, but left his hands bloody and covered in dirt. Taking in his first breath and feeling the cool breeze on his skin made him feel gratitude like he'd never known before. As he pushed himself from the small hole in the ground, he also found himself grateful that his plywood coffin had only been buried two feet below ground.

The mile-long walk down the two-lane road to a closed gas station had started as one of the greatest experiences of his life. His cut up hands stung and his throat was parched, but he was free and the world had a comparative softness. But as he walked, some of the joyous shock began to fade.

He still remembered Hell: the sights, smells, and sensations. The memories made his step falter and he felt a faint uneasiness grow in him. When a bird flew out of a tree suddenly, Dean flinched, throwing his hands up defensively. It was second nature for him to expect pain coming from all sides. Every moment that he felt anything less than agony was both wonderful and also strangely unsettling. He couldn't help waiting for the other shoe to drop. After all, he had no idea why he was free.

The gas station provided some supplies and a car for him to steal. He had promised himself that if he ever found a way topside, his first meal would be a massive cheeseburger with a cold beer, but it actually had ended up being a bag of hard black licorice and a bottle of water. After bandaging his hands, he collected two grocery bags full of bottled water, snacks, petty cash, and some porno mags.

He tried called Sam, but his little brother's phone number wasn't working anymore. Calling Bobby was only slightly more successful because he was able to hear the old hunter's voice before being threatened and hung up on. It made sense. He'd been dead for about nine months according to a newspaper he'd found while digging through the magazine rack. It would be silly to think Bobby would believe him over the phone. So Dean hopped in the hotwired Toyota Corolla and headed straight for the old hunter's house.

It took some grappling and nearly an hour of testing before Bobby began to warm up to the idea that Dean might actually be himself. He drank holy water, ate salt, held iron, cut himself with silver, and more. By the end of it he was emotionally worn, having received a slow let down that Bobby wouldn't just take him on some level of faith. Rationally he knew it had been too much to hope for, that Bobby would be able to see the truth in his eyes and know it was him. It was true that Bobby loved him like a son, but a hunter didn't get to break fifty-years old without being careful as hell, even with loved ones. It wasn't the hug he'd hoped for, right on the porch the moment he saw family again, but when Bobby finally embraced him, Dean shed a few silent tears.

Bobby poured two tall glasses of whiskey, neat, while Dean took a seat on the living room couch. Bobby watched Dean touch one of the bandages that had started peeling back on his left knuckles. He noticed Dean stare at his own cut flesh for several seconds, color draining from his face before he snapped out of his brief trance long enough to reset the bandage. Bobby handed Dean one of the glasses before sitting down in a nearby chair.

"What do you remember?" Bobby wanted to know what he was working with before deciding how to proceed.

"Well, I was a hellhound's chew toy." Dean's eyes didn't meet Bobby's and his leg rocked restlessly. "Then I woke up in a pine box, not a scratch on me."

Bobby face didn't betray his doubt. He'd seen Dean in dozens of awful situations and the boy had bounced back like nothing. Yet the current situation was different. Dean was trying to keep up a strong exterior, but Bobby had seen enough trauma survivors to know when an ocean of pain was bubbling just below the surface. He remembered something from Hell, but it'd be nearly impossible to pry anything loose in that moment. If there was one thing Winchesters were good at it was pretending that everything was fine when it was anything but.

"Why was I buried anyway? Not that I'm complaining." Dean sipped his whiskey slowly, savoring it and a little fearful that his tolerance might have gone down after ninety years… or maybe just nine months.

"I wanted to burn you, the whole hunter's pyre, but Sam insisted that you be buried. He said that you'd need a body when he got you back." Bobby looked up from his own drink. "You think he did this? Made a deal?"

"That's what I'd do— Stupid son of a bitch. He's probably in deep. You should've seen the area around my grave; it was like a bomb went off. There was definitely some bad mojo involved." Dean threw caution into the wind and took a long swig from his glass. "Well, I need to see Sammy. His old number isn't working. Can I get his new one from you?"

"Sorry, Dean. I can't help you there." Bobby shrugged apologetically. "I haven't talked to him since just after you died."

"What?!" Dean was caught between standing up in outrage and collapsing further into the soft couch from some unseen punch in the gut.

"He took off shortly after…."

"You just let him go off by himself?!" Dean shouted, making his slightly raw throat hurt. His heart was hammering and he felt a little lightheaded. He knew that he was overreacting, but he couldn't help it. Sam was supposed to be here, but he was gone and possibly had just done something supremely stupid to save Dean.

"I didn't 'just let him' do anything. He's a grown man. I can't really stop him from doing anything short of chaining him up in the basement."

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a few breaths to calm himself down. "Well, what happened?"

"After…. After we buried you, he was fixated. He kept talking about hunting Lilith and getting you back. I didn't want to hear it. I'd just lost one of you and he was pushing for some kind of suicide mission. I tried to talk him out of it, but he just took off one night. I tried reaching out to him for the first few weeks, but he wouldn't return my calls. After awhile he ditched his old number." Bobby didn't want to meet Dean's eye. He'd regretted not going after Sam for months, but now it was worse. If Sam had done some dark dealing to get Dean back, then finding him was all the more important than ever and the trail had gone cold long ago.

"We need to find him."

* * *

Bobby started making calls to various hunter networks trying to get word on Sam while Dean contacted Sam's cell phone carrier. Sam had canceled service to all phone numbers associated with his known aliases, including his most private lines under the names Wedge Antilles and Garven Dreis. Bobby's search had resulted in almost zero luck. A hunter out of Madison, Wisconsin thought she'd spotted Sam buying shotgun cartridges at a hunting shop five or six months earlier. He had left before she could figure out a way to make a casual introduction, but she seemed pretty confident that she recognized him from a picture Ellen used to keep on the wall of The Roadhouse. A single possible sighting that was at least five months old within a two-month window wasn't much to go off of.

"Every single one of his old phones is dead and his email address just bounced," Dean muttered as he returned to the couch after refilling his glass with whiskey.

"Don't bother trying to track your dad's old phones; he left them here with me." Bobby opened a desk drawer and retrieved three old cell phones to emphasize the point.

"He took Baby, right?" Dean mused. "Maybe we can get a hit off a traffic cam or something?"

"Well, I guess it's better than nothing."

It took a week for Dean and Bobby to swing enough pretend federal authority to get most of the major metropolitan police departments and larger counties' sheriff's offices checking their records for sightings of a black '67 Impala. It was a delicate game trying to convince each law enforcement office not to arrest Sam on sight or treat him as a wanted criminal. It ended up proving extremely difficult when Bobby spoke with the St. Louis police department. After a very stressful phone call, Bobby found Dean in the living room and filled him in.

"We may have a hit on the Impala. Five months ago in St. Louis, a tall man with medium length brown hair was seen leaving a crime scene in a black 67 Impala. The license plates don't match, but that doesn't count for squat if Sam's trying to stay off the radar."

"What was the crime?" Dean wasn't too phased by the idea of fleeing a crime scene. The year before, Hendrickson had compiled an impressive list of apparent crimes committed by Dean that were really nothing out of the ordinary to a hunter.

"Slaughter at some nice hotel. Nine dead: Eight stabbings and one was thrown out a sixth-story window. Also, five injured."

Fourteen casualties was incredibly high, even for a hunter as well-trained as Sam. There was so much off about the scenario that Bobby and Dean couldn't even begin to come up with theories.

"Fuck." Dean started hoping that maybe the St. Louis lead wasn't Sam at all, that maybe this was some sort of awful coincidence. "Fancy hotel, there's got to be security footage. Any chance we can we get a look at it?"

"Doesn't look like it. Freak accident or something, the hotel's computer was out of storage and didn't record anything from that week."

"Great. If we didn't have bad luck we'd have no luck at all." Bobby raised a bottle of beer at Dean's comment. "That scene sounds a little hairy for Sammy, right?"

"Maybe he was investigating?" Bobby suggested, echoing Dean's attempt to rationalize the evidence.

"Maybe."

They kept turning over every rock they could think of to find Sam, but after another week they were running out of ideas. It seemed like every possible lead was over five months old. St. Louis was the most recent and most promising account, but nothing turned up after that. Dean was becoming more and more agitated as their avenues for investigation started drying up. Bobby dreaded the coming talk, but one morning over a simple breakfast of coffee and grits, he took the chance.

"Listen, Dean. I tried doing five different locator spells. Hell, I even tried a 17th century Portuguese summoning spell, but everything's coming back nil…. I don't want to say it, but somebody's gotta: he might be dead."

Dean put down his cup of black coffee and swallowed hard. "Bobby—" He only got the one word out, but his voice still managed to crack.

"Things have gotten damned hairy since we buried you," Bobby continued. "Demonic omens are popping up everywhere. Hunters are getting killed or broken every week. Sam's a damn good hunter, but even the best have bad days."

"What about the whole him-bringing-me-back—"

"We don't know that that was him, and even if it was how do we know he didn't make the deal months ago or that he even survived it?" There was a long silence while they both humored unpleasant visions.

"I can't just write him off and give up. If it's really so bad out there he might need me. I need to find him Bobby." Dean knew he was getting dangerously close to chasing a ghost, but he'd spent his entire life taking care of his little brother and the thought of giving up on him made his heart break.

"I just—we might not like what we find, if we find anything at all. We both know that a lot of hunters end up named John Doe." Bobby started to step back his suggestion of stopping the search, instead adopting a more stoic outlook for the future.

Dean shook his head. "He's not dead."

"We can't know that. It's not like we can just ask a demon if they've seen him around the pit."

"Trust me, I can make a demon talk, but it won't help. This is Sam we're talkin' about. The kid's a 6'5" puppy. No way he'd end up in the pit…." Dean looked up at Bobby with a suddenly hopeful smile. "But maybe we don't look at the destination. Instead we talk to the transportation. Let's go have us a chat with a reaper."


	13. Reaping

It took eight hours, including a three-hour detour to avoid the defensive demon groups, before Sam and Ruby reached their destination. There weren't any motels nearby, so they pull off to the side of a dead-end road a mile from the old church. Sam set up a small tent for Ruby to perform the locator map spell in, so that the wind wouldn't disrupt its components. Instead of going about his own business, he sat on the ground next the the tent door and waited for her to begin.

Ruby began by naming all the materials and showing him how to prepare the different pieces. She very briefly touched upon some of the theory behind the spell and how it fit into the bigger picture of magic. It surprised her that he seemed to sincerely listen to everything she was saying and even asked informed questions to clarify several points. She knew that he'd always been the brother to cast spells on hunts, but it hadn't occurred to her that he might have an interest in or even talent for the craft. It was true that he was using physical combat less and less, but using innate powers was far from the art and chemistry of witchcraft.

The demonstration process drew out the casting time to three hours long, but when they were done the floor of the tent was covered in a map displaying about two dozen tiny dots of light. Sam leaned closer to examine the map and unconsciously rested his palm on Ruby's thigh next to him. In weak reassurance, she placed her smaller hand over his. The spell had drained her of slightly more energy, but at least they were in a cooler climate and it was nighttime.

According to the map, there were fifteen demons at the church and small groups of three or four demons patrolling the surrounding area. They decided to approach the area from a safe distance, then get a look with binoculars before trying to settle on a plan. After a half-hour hike through thigh-high brush using only the light of the moon, they came to a small hill overlooking the scene.

The church was little more than a ruin. Three of the four stone walls had fallen in allowing a relatively unobstructed view of the inside. Demons worked to set up an altar in the center of the former building. In one corner, six people were bound and guarded by three demons. It definitely looked like a sacrifice was going to occur in the near future. Sam pointed to a three-demon patrol that was walking in his and Ruby's general direction.

"I think I can hold all three," he whispered. "If you can kill two, then I can drag them all out of view no problem and we can question the last one."

"You sure we want to be grabbing a patrol? If the others notice they might bolt or call in reinforcements."

"If this really is one of Lilith's tasks, I want to make sure we're doing enough to mess it up. The last thing we need is to get in a big fight and not break the right urn or something. And... we'll just have to act fast once we grab them." Sam looked at Ruby in the dim light and hesitated. "Are you okay? If you're not ready for this…."

"I'm fine. Let's do this." She started to take a step forward, but he put a hand on her arm stopping her.

"Leave the woman in the green jacket; she's alive in there. The other two are too far gone."

* * *

They were several hundred yards away from the patrolling demons with their prisoner a few minutes later. Sam had kept her silenced and trapped inside the meatsuit to avoid any attempts to call for help. Ruby cuffed the demon's hands, but left her ankles unbound. It was a calculated risk that they were willing to take. Should they be captured or killed in their assault on the church Sam would hate to leave a recently exorcised woman bound almost half a mile from the nearest road.

Pressed for time, Sam began the interrogation. It proved much easier for him to torture demons than humans. All he had to do was focus on squeezing or tearing at their smoke-clouds and demons were in agonizing pain. He made sure to keep the demon silent when he tortured it, but he could tell by the contorting limbs and face that it was working. After a minute, he stopped and spoke to the demon quietly.

"I am going to ask you some questions, then I will let you speak. If you try to scream or don't answer my questions I will torture you to death. Nod if you understand," he instructed, causing the demon to nod vigorously. "Did Lilith order you to do this?"

"Yes." Sam only allowed the demons voice to come out as a hoarse whisper.

"What do they need to do?"

"We—" The demon was shaking, seemingly terrified. "—They need to sacrifice the surviving descendants of the original massacre on the altar before daybreak."

"Why is Lilith making you all sin during the High Holy Season?" Ruby asked in an almost-sympathetic voice. She may not have cared about religious holidays, but Lilith's crowd was generally very devout and ordering them to do that seemed like its own form of torture.

"The rite can only be accomplished on a century-anniversary of the massacre and during the High Holy Season. The next time that it could happen is in about three hundred years."

Sam and Ruby stared at each other, eyes wide. "We need to stop this."

* * *

Sam and Ruby had managed to quickly and quietly subdue the other patrols as they had with the first, but they still had to deal with fifteen demons in one large room that provided very little in the way of cover. Sam guessed that he could probably only immobilize four or five at once, but he'd be unable to do anything else at the same time. Ruby had retrieved several flasks of holy water and the corrosive grenade-like potion she had accidentally been hit by a few months earlier. The holy water would be a fast-acting way to keep demons distracted, hopefully until the the other potion took effect. As much as Ruby didn't like the idea of them throwing or splashing liquids that could harm her, they would cause a massive distraction and prevent some of the demons from smoking out to get reinforcements.

There wasn't enough time and advantageous terrain for them to develop a complex plan of attack. Sam and Ruby would both be carrying three of the holy water and corrosive flasks. They would throw the flasks into the room, then Sam would enter followed by Ruby. The corrosive flasks would lock any demons it hit into their meatsuits and start a one-minute countdown until those demons would be immobilized in pain. That meant that if they could fight relatively defensively for sixty seconds the tide of the battle would turn in their favor. Unfortunately, they couldn't just tag the demons and run away because the humans would almost certainly be sacrificed immediately.

They briefly humored the idea of flanking the demons by approaching from opposite collapsed walls, but Sam was concerned that would increase the odds of Ruby being hit by one of the harmful liquids. Ruby tried to argue that she could risk a little holy water if it made sense tactically, but Sam rationalized wanting to protect her by pointing out that a flanking maneuver would leave the church's doorway unblocked. With the doorway blocked, the demons would have to climb over an at least three-foot high pile of stone that had once been a wall in order to escape on foot.

"I have an idea and you're not going to like it," Ruby commented as they watched the terrain, but she didn't turn to face Sam. "All of the humans need to be sacrificed on the altar to complete the ritual. So if we used a rifle to kill one while they were still in the corner…."

Sam looked at the six humans bound and crying in the church. If they killed one with a long gun, there would be no need for him and Ruby to get within eyesight of the fifteen demons below. The task wouldn't be able to succeed for at least three hundred years, if at all. But the demons would probably kill the other five prisoners rather than let them go. They could kill one human and let five die in order to have a nearly certain chance at messing up Lilith's plans, and they'd be safe while doing it.

Ruby watched Sam think over her suggestion for longer than she had expected. She knew he considered himself rational enough to at least humor any suggestion, but putting others before himself was Sam's nature. It would have to be a horrific situation for him to justify the deaths of innocents. She hadn't quite expected this situation to qualify, but there they were seriously considering it.

"I'm not letting the demons sacrifice them," he said after a long while. "And we aren't going to sacrifice them either."

She had mixed feelings about his decision. As much as she would prefer to take the easy way out, the idea that Sam would agree to let six people die was probably more unsettling.

* * *

Knowing they were pressed for time, Sam and Ruby snuck down from the hill where they had been observing. They approached the church from its front, which was the only wall still standing tall enough to provide any cover for Sam's imposing stature. They stood on either side of the doorway leading into the main room holding their targets. Sam raised his eyebrows and tilted his head toward the doorway, silently asking if Ruby was ready. She nodded and started mouthing a three-second countdown.

They both threw their flasks through the doorway at the same time, then Sam ran in first with Ruby right behind him. Seven of the demons had been hit with holy water, causing them to recoil or collapse in immediate pain. The binding corrosive potion had hit nine of them including several of the demons who had been hit with holy water. The four demons farthest from Sam and Ruby were untouched by either liquid, making them the largest flight risk and they were closest to the human prisoners.

Sam reached out with his powers and grabbed the untouched group of four. He had never attempted to move four demons at once, but his adrenaline was pumping and he instinctively pulled trying to get them away from the humans. Three of the demons flew forward in a jerking motion, slamming into another demon and the backmost pew. The remaining demon's grip on its meatsuit proved to be weak because his smoke-cloud was ripped clean from the body, which fell limp to the ground.

Sam hadn't expected to be holding onto three possessed bodies and a smoke-cloud at the same time. Manipulating or otherwise dealing with a demon outside of a meatsuit was entirely different than one inside a body and he'd never tackled a mixed group before, let alone in a room full of pissed-off demons. As he tried to learn on the fly, Sam took a punch to the face. He fumbled the four demons briefly while he dodged the second swing. Sam focused on killing the demon attacking him with a swift psychic hit, then returned his focus to the smoke-cloud, which had started trying to fly away. He grabbed the cloud and killed it in seconds.

While Sam was working his way through the four untagged demons, Ruby started working through the other demons based on their proximity. She moved past Sam, slitting two holy-water-soaked throats on her way. A demon on the opposite side of the altar started cocking a pistol so she threw herself over the altar, knocking off as many idols as she could think to in the heat of the moment. She landed on her feet, then sprung forward stabbing her knife up into the demon's jaw and skull. The demon had managed to get a shot off before dying, but it only caught the outside of Ruby's left arm. She kicked the dropped gun under one of the pews.

She had managed to take a potentially lethal weapon out of the fight, but in the process put herself about ten feet away from Sam with five demons between them. She and Sam may have technically been flanking the handful of demons, but that didn't count for much. They were still outnumbered five to one, Ruby was surrounded, and Sam wasn't prepared to engage in a physical brawl while trying to use his powers. To make matter worse, the five surviving demons that had been hit with holy water were starting to recover.

Sam was struggling to finish off the three demons that he had thrown moments earlier. He wanted to kill them before they could escape, but two demons next to him tackled him to the ground. He landed hard on the stone floor, but managed to lift his head enough before impact to avoid a nasty concussion or worse. The two demons punched at his chest and face. He attempted to shield his ribs and head before gaining enough composure to hurl the demons backward with his powers. One was launched into a four-foot-high wall with a loud snap of broken bones; the other flew clear over the opposite wall landing in the dirt twenty feet from the church. Sam pulled a salted iron bar from his belt, preparing to club any demons that tried to attack him while he used his powers.

Ruby started cutting at the demons in an attempt to get back to Sam, but he yelled for her to focus on the prisoners. A demon had decided to make an attempt at the sacrifices even under the chaotic circumstances and started dragging a bound woman toward the altar. Ruby began moving for the woman and mostly dodged a dagger, only receiving a shallow cut on her right cheek and earlobe. Ruby plunged her knife into the dagger-wielding demon as she was slammed from behind and her chest collided with the alter. After a second to recover from the hit, she rolled against the side of the altar to face a demon in a very large meatsuit. One massive hand grabbed her wrist and attempted to shake her knife free, while the other punched her in the face, breaking her nose sending blood pouring down her face. Ruby kicked the demon hard in the crotch and his grip on her wrist loosed. Then, pushing off from the altar, she kicked him with her full force in the stomach, knocking him backward. His loose grip on her wrist was enough to send her tumbling forward after him, but she was able to plunge her knife into his chest as she fell.

Sam found it difficult to focus on anything other than the group of demons immediately around him. He swung the iron bar in his main hand and raised his offhand both to block attacks and help him control his powers. It was easier for him to grab a demon when his hand was physically grabbing in their direction. Three of the five demons surrounding him decided to attack at once. The outside two tried to hold his arms while the middle one came at him with a knife. Old reflexes took over and he wrenched his body to the left, trying to free the arm with the iron bar. Twisting his wrist in the demon's grasp, his arm came free and he hit the knife-wielding demon in the head with the bar. The demon screamed and his skin burnt from the contact with the iron, but not before his knife cut a long gash along Sam's shoulder. He followed through on the swing and hit the demon holding his left arm.

Sam kicked the third demon away from him and started to regain some of his wits. He switched tactics to faster, more focused bursts of powers rather than trying to divide his attention over multiple targets. Enduring several punches from the two demons who had sat out the last attack, he finished killing the downed demon, then knocked back the two that had just been pummeling him.

He saw that Ruby had been pulled or knocked down next to the altar, which a demon was dragging a sacrifice onto. Sam raised his hand to stop the demon who was about to slit the bound woman's throat, and noticed another demon coming up behind Ruby with a large stone brick. Sam used his powers to throw the demon with the knife away from the altar, then focused his attention on killing the demon with the brick before it took a swing at Ruby.

Ruby looked up to notice the demon with the brick behind her as it fell dead. She pulled her knife from the chest of the large meatsuit she had just dropped and ran for Sam. By the time she got to him he had four demons grappling, punching, and kicking at him. The iron bar was knocked from his hand as he was swarmed. She stabbed two of the demons in the back, killing them, by the time Sam had killed one with his powers. Ruby pried the last one off of him, allowing Sam to focus on grabbing and exorcising the three injured demons at the back of the church. Ruby killed her demon, then went to go finish off the demon Sam had thrown over the fallen church wall. It was writhing in the dirt from the corrosive potion by the time she got there so Ruby cautiously braced it with her boot before stabbing it in the heart.

Sam limped over to the human prisoners and began cutting them free with one of the discarded daggers. He reached out to grab the woman on the altar's rope bindings, but she flinched away from him. He held up his hands and assured her that he was there to help them. She continued to shake, but didn't resist him cutting her ropes. When he was done with the woman's binding, he moved around to begin freeing the other humans as Ruby returned.

She was slow moving from fatigue, but wore a broad grin on her blood-smeared face. Instead of hopping over the stone half wall, she circled around through the doorway. Sam finished cutting the last prisoner free before standing up to meet her. He held the back of her head in one hand and kissed her. After a moment, she pulled back just an inch.

"Watch the nose, Romeo. It's completely fucked." Her voice was thick and nasally from the blood clotting in her nostrils. She went back in for another kiss, pulling him toward her by his shirt.

He grimaced and then said, "Careful on my ribs. I think there might be a few breaks."

Ruby released him, then peeked around his body to look at the humans. They were in a state of shock, but physically fine except for a few bumps and bruises. Sam found two car keys on the dead demons that corresponded to a van and truck that were parked nearby. While Sam was checking bodies, Ruby tried to explain what had just happened to the freed prisoners. After a few minutes, Sam had identified five of the demon meatsuits that were still alive. The freed prisoners helped them load the unconscious bodies into the van and headed back toward town after thanking their mysterious rescuers.

When Sam and Ruby got back to the Impala they took two bottles of water and a rag out of the trunk to wash off all the blood and grime from the fight. Sam cleaned some of the corrosive potion off the back of his left hand, careful not to contaminate anything Ruby might touch. Then he bandaged the glancing bullet wound on Ruby's arm. She patiently waited for him to tie off the bandage before cleaning the cut on his shoulder.

Fueled by adrenaline and a victory high, Ruby hopped into the driver's seat and started queuing up some music. Sam settled in shotgun and cradled his aching rib cage. The sun was just starting to rise, illuminating every cut and forming bruise on their exposed skin. Sam looked down as he buckled his seatbelt and noticed a very faint pinkness on the back of his left hand. He frowned slightly, but decided not to mention it when he looked over at Ruby. She was singing along to Dead Kennedys' "Too Drunk To Fuck." It was the happiest he'd seen her in days and he planned on enjoying it.

* * *

"Hello, Dean."

She stood in the chalk summoning circle. Her shoulder length straight black hair matched her simple, black knee-length dress. Seeing her again, it all came flooding back. Dean stared, unblinking at her hauntingly familiar face. She greeted him like an old friend and in a way he supposed that maybe to her he was.

"Tessa?" Dean exhaled her name, shocked that he even remembered it.

She had expected to see his true death twice. The first time he'd been saved before she could help him move on. She hadn't even bothered to reap his soul while the archangel was killing him for fun; it was obviously a temporary situation and not worth being involved in. But the second time he faced true death, she watched helplessly as a hellhound sunk its teeth into his soul and pulled it down to Hell. Dean could've sworn the last thing he saw before he died was her in the far corner of the room, a look of devastation on her face. She thought that that was the last she'd see of him, but there they were.

"Dean, you're the one that got away. Do you realize how special that makes you? And to do it twice. I've never seen a soul come back from Hell after so long. There's something about you. I can't put my finger on it." She smiled at him like he was a puzzle for her amusement and torment. "It figures that you'd be alive now. Everything has become so... unsettled."

"What do you mean?"

"Something strange is going on. We've been reaping more than usual and—I probably shouldn't be telling you this…. There are new reapers, for the first time in centuries. And there are a lot of them. I'm not sure what's happening, but it feels like we're…." She hesitated. "We're preparing for something big."

"You mean like lots-of-bodies big?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know why else so many of us would be needed." Tessa avoided their eyes, clearly not wanting to be the bearer of bad news. She changed the subject. "But that's not why you summoned me here."

Dean allowed her to end the discussion of some unknown looming threat. She had betrayed some confidentiality telling them what she had and if she didn't know or was incapable of telling them any more, he didn't want to push her. He was trying to ask a favor from her and she was a powerful enough creature that it was daunting enough even without pissing her off first.

"My brother, Sam, is missing," Dean explained. "I need to know if he's alive."

"He's not one of my souls," she replied, seemingly indifferent to the entire concept of Sam's life, but her lips thinned tellingly when Dean's shoulders sank.

"Please, Tessa. I don't know who else to ask. I don't know if it's even worth looking for him." He didn't want to beg, especially in front of Bobby, but for any firm information on Sam he was prepared to. Luckily, she succumbed.

"Dean, I like you. I really do. I'll check with Sam's reaper, but if he is dead…." She pressed her lips together again, cutting off her plea. A look of sadness and pity overcame her naturally content smile. "I wish I could tell you to let him go and accept the natural order, but I know that you won't. You'll fight Death itself for your family and if it kills you, so be it. I don't have a dog in this fight; I just reap the losers. But I don't want you to suffer, Dean. So please, be careful."

Tessa closed her eyes in concentration and her body flickered out of sight. Dean and Bobby stood next the the summoning circle they had drawn in one of Bobby's upstair bedrooms. After several minutes of waiting, Bobby was about to suggest that she wasn't coming back, but he was interrupted by her reappearance.

"Sam is alive. I don't know where—" She held up her hand to preemptively silence Dean. "Before you ask, I didn't ask his reaper when his time is up. That's something we can never share... I need to return to my duties, but I hope you find him." When she spoke of hope her voice had a sincerity that Dean found reassuring.

"And I hope I don't see you for a long time," Dean joked, but he had to admit that Tessa felt like a strange source of stability and comfort that had always turned up when things were most dire. He wondered what it would be like to be her friend; but maybe reapers couldn't have friends? Maybe they were too eternal and unfathomable to have casual interactions?

She stepped forward, reaching a hand out to touch Dean's cheek. He hesitated ever so slightly, fearing for a moment what the touch of a reaper could do. Her thumb caressed his cheekbone, and she leaned in, kissing him on the lips. For a fleeting moment, Dean felt a sensation of timelessness and tame power. He kissed her back, even parting his lips slightly in invitation, but she cut him off, then smiled at him.

"Was that for good luck?" he asked with a sad smirk.

"I'm an agent of fate, Dean. I don't believe in luck. No, that was for you." She took a step back and then vanished.

Dean stood unmoving for several seconds looking where she had just been standing. She was more or less his guardian angel of death and it strangely hurt to see her go. Tessa's familiar face had reminded him how much he needed to regain contact with his friends and restore his family. He glanced over at Bobby, the only person he had left in his life. The old hunter patted him on the shoulder and started walking out of the bedroom.

"If something big is coming, then I need to make another round of calls." Bobby was back at work.

"Who to?" Dean was distracted, as his gaze lingered briefly on the summoning circle before following Bobby from the room.

"Every single hunter I know. We gotta get the word out if we're about to go all hands on deck."


	14. Unexpected

Ruby rolled off of Sam. They were both out of breath and tacky with sweat. She stretched slightly before settling into a comfortable position, lying on her back with one arm tucked under her head. Sam rolled onto his side to get a better view of her.

He had been worried about her for the past few weeks, but she seemed to be doing better for the most part. He had learned how to perform the alarm spells along with a dozen other useful tricks. That had helped take some of the load off of her. She hadn't been as interested in eating, but Sam suspected that that was from the stress and strain of the constant running and fighting. That lifestyle wasn't too far off from his time hunting—there was lots of travel and frequent occurrences of life-threatening combat—but Ruby didn't have the hunting background he had. She seemed to be worn thin at times. It even looked like she had lost a little weight... but only in her arms. She still retained the gentle curves of her breasts and hips; if anything they seemed ever so slightly bigger.

"How long before we need to get back on the road?" she asked.

"We can probably afford a few hours," he speculated. "There weren't many demons around where we broke the line yesterday. Seems like we'll get a good head start. Maybe take off in the late afternoon?"

"In that case, I'm gonna grab a shower and you should probably get some beauty sleep," she teased him, flicking his chin-length hair with her fingers, then she stood up to stretch some more.

Sam liked watching her naked body move, seeing the muscles flex or the tattoo on her back contort with activity. She bent forward, extending her arms toward the ground. Then she arched backward while rubbing her lower back. He admired the little dimples above her ass, then glanced over to look at her hip bones, but they weren't as visible as normal. When she bent backward it was fairly clear that her abdomen had become a bit fuller, but only her lower abdomen... and her hips... and her breasts.

Sam felt like the bottom of his stomach had fallen out. His brain filled with a nearly-static noise of shock that left him unable to think for a moment. He must have turned pale because Ruby immediately stopped and gave him a worried look.

"Are you okay?" she asked. When he didn't answer right away she sat down on the bed again and put a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"

"I—um, do you feel—have you gained weight?"

Ruby looked a little annoyed at the question, but shrugged. "How would I know? These motels don't exactly come with scales... but yeah, maybe. I guess my pants have been a little tight lately." Her brow lowered suspiciously. "...Why?"

"It's just, the way you've been feeling sick and tired lately... and I noticed you stomach sticking out a little…. There isn't any chance you're... pregnant?" He barely got the word out.

She just stared at him completely blank-faced for several seconds. When she finally confirmed that she had indeed heard him correctly, she blinked several times in rapid succession and shook her head in confusion.

"What? No. That's impossible."

"Are you sure?"

"It doesn't work—demons can't—it doesn't work. Not with two demons. Not with a human. Stuff doesn't mix right." She emphatically moved her hands to mimic two objects that didn't fit together properly.

"What do you mean?"

"Demons, we're toxic. Way back when, some of the archdemons ran some experiments on breeding with humans, and it doesn't work. Best they could figure, the demon half was too toxic for the human half so nothing ever took." She was getting more uncomfortable by the second.

"Except demonic stuff isn't toxic to me. It actually seems to make me stronger. So... is it possible?" he asked, but Ruby didn't move at all. She was processing the implications of his statement for so long that he had his answer. "We need to find out."

Ruby got up and began pacing next to the bed. Sam had never seen her pace nervously before, which he found alarming, but that seemed like as good a time as any to adopt new nervous tics.

"I'm not entirely sure that a home pregnancy test is gonna work," she pointed out. "I'm a creature from Hell animating a brain-dead body, not sure how that affects the hormones."

Sam considered her concern. When it came right down to it, if they used one and the results came back negative, he just wouldn't feel confident in the results. The last thing they needed was to get tricked by a false negative and go another however-many weeks oblivious to the problem. They needed an answer in black and white—literally. He suggested, "An ultrasound should work. Mechanically everything should be normal, right? Either there's going to be something there or not."

"Yeah. That makes sense, I guess." She chewed on her lip while she answered, then stopped mid-stride and looked at him. "You know this is insane, right?"

* * *

They found a nearby clinic that could fit them in an hour later. The drive and wait had been one of the most agonizing experiences of their lives, which was saying a lot. After parking the Impala, Sam hesitated, unsure if he should go in with her, but Ruby circled around to the driver's door and silently dragged him from the car.

She checked in at registration under her alias, Kathy Anderson, while Sam stared awkwardly at the waiting area that seemed ominously full of infants. It took a little finagling and lying about already having taken a positive pregnancy test for her to avoid them making her pee in a cup. The last thing she needed was to be refused an ultrasound based on a false-negative. They both just wanted to get the damn thing over with. When she was done strong-arming her way into an appointment, she sat down next to Sam to wait in their shared uncomfortable silence.

After fifteen minutes, a nurse called, "Ms. Anderson?"

Ruby stood up and exchanged an uncertain glance with Sam. She was wavering in her conviction to drag him along and he didn't know if his presence would be supportive or stressful. The decision was made for them when the nurse stepped forward and inserted herself into the previously wordless debate.

"Are you the father?"

Sam's ears became hot and he was sure he blushed. The nurse's voice was cheerful in a way that made the situation worse somehow. He could tell that she was just trying to be friendly, but a sunny disposition was a trigger for Ruby when she was already stressed and Ruby's unnaturally quiet behavior was telling. So Sam decided to take on the responsibility of holding up their end of interaction with the nurse.

"In a way. That's what we're here to find out," he replied.

The nurse's eyebrows rose briefly and she glanced at Ruby, then leaned a bit closer. "Oh. This was um... unexpected?"

"Understatement," muttered Ruby. "I was told that I couldn't have kids. We just want to know if it's..."

The nurse put a hand on Ruby's shoulder in reassurance, but it just made Sam internally cringe with concern for the nurse's safety and Ruby's sanity. "Don't worry, my dear. We'll take a quick look. You'll know in a jiffy!"

The nurse lead them down a hallway and into an exam room that was decorated in pastels, then hummed some cheerful tune while she prepared the ultrasound machine. Ruby stared at her, then looked over at Sam with a weak glare. He shrugged, helpless to improve the situation, then pretended to find an informational poster fascinating. After readying the machine, the nurse had Ruby get onto the exam table, and uncover her abdomen. The nurse applied some gel to the exposed belly and began scanning.

Sam and Ruby couldn't see the monitor from where they were seated so they both watched the movement of the handheld scanning device instead. It took a few minutes of moving the device a little, then pushing a button or two, then scanning again, but the nurse kept coming back to the same point. Each time she came back to that spot Sam held his breath. On the fourth pass, the nurse held the scanner still.

"Congratulations!" she exclaimed in a sickeningly happy squeak and turned the monitor around so that they could see the black and white image. It was a fetus. Hell, it looked kind of like a baby. It had a head and visible arms; one of the arms even moved. When it moved Ruby's eyes widened, but she was otherwise motionless. The nurse didn't seem to notice Ruby's startled expression. "It looks like you're maybe 14 weeks along, but it can be hard to tell when the dad is so tall."

"Does everything look normal?" Sam managed. He didn't know what he expected to see from a half-demon fetus. Would it just be human or like a demon? What did demons even look like? He had only ever seen them as black clouds riding humans.

"Oh, yup! It looks healthy. You can even see the heart beating there."

She pointed to the monitor where a little area was fluttering. The nurse then pushed a button and the machine began emitting a tiny, rapid heartbeat. At that point, Ruby looked like she was so uncomfortable with the situation that Sam suspected she wasn't capable of retaining any information that the nurse said going forward. He decided to get Ruby out of the clinic as quickly as possible.

"I think we're going to need a little time to process this. Do you have any brochures or information that we could take with us?"

"Of course! Oh! And, since everyone wants to know, you have another four to six weeks before you can tell if it's a boy or girl. I'll go get you some materials to take home." The nurse smiled at Sam, who managed to awkwardly smile back. She stood up and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Ruby turned to look at Sam, she was aghast.

"You okay?" he asked, taking her hand in his.

She squeezed gently. "I'll let you know."

* * *

They retreated to the Impala after the nurse gave them a large folder full of reading material and a roll of eight ultrasound photos. Sam got into the driver's seat since Ruby was in no state to drive, but he didn't start the car. Instead he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to clear his head a bit. To his relief, Ruby was looking around and shaking her head in a similar attempt to start to process the new information.

"Holy fuck," she exhaled.

"Yeah." Sam flipped through the handouts before carefully tossing the folder onto the back seat. He then put the ultrasound photos into the glovebox. "You seem really— Are you okay?"

"I was not prepared for this."

"Yeah, we both weren't," he said sympathetically.

"I mean like, at all. When I was a human having a kid was never even remotely imaginable."

He had forgotten that Ruby had had another life as a human, when she could have faced this sort of thing before, but apparently pregnancy was not something she'd had experience with.

"You didn't have any kids when you were human?" He unconsciously skirted the looming conversation, but she didn't provide enough of an answer to take them off on a sufficiently distracting tangent.

"I died young."

There was a long silence that neither quite knew how to break. Sam sighed, shutting his eyes and pressing his lips together.

"This is unbelievable. The timing…" he muttered without knowing how to finish the thought.

"Was there ever gonna be a good time?" Ruby joked halfheartedly. The shock had started to wear off and she was beginning to really think about what was happening and how to proceed. His statement had surprised her.

It was true that having to deal with a pregnancy while they were chasing Lilith and being pursued was a horrible inconvenience, but she wasn't prepared for Sam to juxtapose their current situation with some scenario involving more feasible timing. In a glancing sort of way, he'd accidentally brought up the idea of having a kid independent from their immediate circumstances. She may not have ever thought about having kids, but it seemed that he had. It wasn't clear if those were old feelings brought to the surface or if he had continuously been carrying a secret hope for someday having a family.

But, in spite of his hopes, with everything that they were going through they still had to keep their wits. Even if it turned out that they wanted to give having a kid a shot—and that was a big if—they needed to know their options and consider the risks. She offered an easy out to the situation. "You know, I could just smoke out for a few minutes. That would probably end it."

"It probably would…." Sam sighed again and leaned forward, resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

"What are you thinking?"

"When I was at Stanford, I thought I was out. I wanted a normal life and family. After…. Afterward, when I started hunting again I figured that my chance at having a family was over. I didn't want my kid to grow up the way I did, into the life. I tried to make myself not want…." He almost finished the sentence with 'this' but hesitated. That was not the life he wanted to bring a child into. It was barely the kind of life he could stand living himself.

Yet, there was a big part of him that wanted to make things work. He didn't know if it was fear or hope that moved him. Since the motel room, he couldn't help but notice a small voice in the back of his mind that wondered if demonic essence was incompatible with humans. Could he even have a kid with a human? Demon blood ran in his veins, enough that he had reacted slightly to Ruby's demon-only potion in Colorado. That combined with his attunement to all things demonic had definitely put him into a grey area. The idea that he might lose some fundamental aspect of his humanity, like being able to breed with his own species, worried him. Not that he'd been planning on having kids at all, let alone having sex with anyone other than Ruby for the foreseeable future... He couldn't help but have a small, but legitimate concern that maybe having some fluke kid with her was his only chance. But as much as he feared the idea of a lost opportunity, he was slightly comforted to find that he felt even more wistful.

"Do you want to keep it?" she asked frankly.

"Maybe?" It wasn't a good answer, but it was honest. After a thoughtful pause he continued, "But it doesn't make sense; not with us going up against Lilith."

The rational side of him had resigned itself to ending the pregnancy, but he still didn't like the decision. If things had been different, if they weren't being chased all over the country until they killed Lilith or were killed themselves…. Throughout his life, the what-ifs always had had a way of hurting him.

Ruby could see that he was disappointed with his conclusion, even if he didn't mean to telegraph his feelings so clearly. For the last few months she'd watched him act more in his own self-interest. Not to the exclusion of others, but in the pursuit of some level of personal happiness. He wasn't doing anything bold, but there was a growing habit of enjoying simple pleasures, like hijacking the iPod to play something soft like Aimee Mann or stopping the car to stargaze. She liked to see him seek out things that made him happy because it meant that he was finally starting to live again instead of merely surviving. She could see that conflict on his face: the debate between living and surviving.

"You once told me that you wanted to kill Lilith in order to get closure and move on with your life," she said, breaking the bleak silence. "We screwed up her ritual thing. We've killed dozens or maybe a hundred of her minions. Maybe that's close enough to closure? Maybe moving on means doing something that you really want, finding something else to live for. Like looking to the future instead of dwelling on the past."

His body tensed with uncertainty. "You'd—you mean, you'd consider doing this?"

"If you want this kid, then I'll support that decision—if we can figure out a way to not get ourselves killed in the process." She wanted to make this situation work, but if they didn't have some sort of a plan to keep them alive it was going to be a moot point.

"What do you want?" he asked as he turned to look her in the eyes for the first time since they had gotten into the car.

Ruby had been going along with his crazy whims for so long that he hadn't stopped to think about her feelings. In a lot of ways she had more say in the decision than he did. She would have to endure being pregnant for another six months, which would be an ordeal. Also, Sam realized that Ruby didn't age, which meant that barring any untimely deaths, she would potentially have a longer relationship with a hypothetical kid, possibly even outliving it. He didn't expect her to have strong feelings the way he did because she hadn't thought about the subject as much, but surely she had some opinions, no matter how new they might be.

"Maybe?" She shrugged slightly. "It's hard to picture myself being much of a mom. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

He thought that that was an understandable reaction. It seemed like half the time she was about ten words shy of starting a bar fight. But the truth was that she wasn't as two-dimensional as she thought. After spending a year with her, he had seen her at her most vulnerable and sincere. She enjoyed poetry as well as punk rock. She dispensed words of wisdom and gentle reassurances. She appreciated good, but intimately understood evil. And she made those she cared for better by her company.

"From what I saw, you're great with the kids at your coven… and you rebuilt me from the ground up over the last year. I think you'd be fine, but that's just my opinion." Sam was noticing the turn in the conversation. It had gone from trying to decide whether to have the baby to finding a way to justify having the baby. "And, honestly, if it turns out that taking care of a kid isn't for you, if there was a way to make sure things were safe, then I think I could make it work."

He'd been raised by a single dad—well, two single dads if you counted Bobby—and while John Winchester was far from a model parent, Sam had never felt like he was supposed to have a mom. As much as everyone else had felt Mary's absence, Sam hadn't known any better and didn't expect more. And he was committed to being a much better father than his own.

Ruby raised an eyebrow at his offer. "You'd really be fine rocking the single dad status? You must ready want this kid."

"I guess I do." He smiled slightly. "Maybe you're right, about Lilith and finding something else to live for."

Ruby smiled back at him. She moved the conversation forward, away from the touchy feelings to more practical matters.

"If we're gonna do this we need to have a longer-term plan than just traveling every day. We seemed to be off the radar with the coven. We could go there, at least until we figure out something better."

Sam nodded for a second, then clenched a fist in annoyance. "Fuck. You can't get through the barrier until after the kid is born. Pascoe told me that the barrier doesn't let pregnant women through, some sort of design flaw involved protection against parasitic monsters."

"Parasitic monster sounds about right." Ruby rubbed the back of her neck. She had been tired before the whole pregnancy panic and now that they were staring down another six months of that she felt even more fatigued. "I guess we run for six more months and then after the kid is born make a break for the coven."

"Even if we can't get through the barrier, can the coven help us?" Sam asked hopefully.

"We can't stay with any of the expat-witches without putting them in danger, and I doubt they'd be able to offer more protection than we've already got." She shot down the idea. "It'd be good to let Gabin know what's going on, but I can't think of anything he can do for us while we're stuck moving all the time."

"The two of us—we're really going to do this?"

"Well, we're already doing crazy stuff. This is just a hair crazier," Ruby said, then suddenly pointed at Sam. "Just don't start touching my stomach or I'll break your hand."


	15. Implied Partnerships & Explicit Dealings

After deciding to have the child, Sam and Ruby changed their strategy to be entirely defensive. They were trying to run out a six-month clock and didn't want to take any unnecessary risks. They didn't bother going after Lilith or any of her task, even when Sam had the occasional vision, though he would post on an online hunter message board with anonymous tips in the hopes that someone else would oppose her. They tried to limit combat as much as possible, but it would still happen at least once a week.

Ruby had beaten Sam to the punch on the whole 'fighting while pregnant' debate. She had insisted that as long as the pregnancy wasn't affecting her ability to fight, or visible and putting a target on her back, that she should still be in the fights. Her argument was that there was a risk of getting hurt whether she was in the fight or if she was sitting out and Sam lost, so she might as well help. He tried to argue with her, explaining that it had been dumb luck that she wasn't seriously injured at the church in Colorado where she had been shot in the arm at point blank range and pushed into an altar, but she just assured him that she'd be more careful.

In the end they agreed that she would try to find ranged spells that could be useful in a fight and avoid melee at all costs. Going forward, Sam would try to run interception and engage in the close-range fighting style that Ruby had previously specialized in. This role reversal was a little awkward at first, but they eventually got the hang of it. Sam even began combining his hand-to-hand combat skills with his powers in a much smoother fashion than when he had first tried it in Colorado.

Aside from the changes in their fighting style, they also made a few lifestyle changes. After two stubborn weeks, Ruby conceded to buy some more comfortable clothing. She didn't look pregnant, but she did have a slightly fuller abdomen than she used to, a fact that only she and Sam noticed. Another change was that Ruby started eating regular meals and taking prenatal vitamins. They theorized that whatever supernatural quality allowed demons to survive without food or sleep was also helping make up for the lack of nutrition, but Sam worried that relying on the demon qualities might somehow increase exposure or reliance on the demonic nature. It was also evident from her mild weight loss and fatigue that she was, in fact, not going to be able to function on demonic powers alone.

Around the time that she traded in her slim-fit jeans for something with a stretchier waistline, Ruby finally let Sam touch her belly. She found the whole thing a bit silly and slightly dehumanizing, but she knew it was considered some sort of rite of passage. It would have been different if she had been further along and he could feel a kick or something, but he seemed content to just make the hopeful gesture. Sam had also been consistently happier than she had seen him in a long time, and she found herself enjoying the goofy grin he would get while touching her belly.

Around week twenty, Ruby felt the baby move for the first time. She had been driving when it happened and pulled over to the shoulder. Sam was working through a book of New York Times crossword puzzles and was chewing his pen over the author of 'Little Essays Toward Truth' (seven letters), but stopped to look around.

"Something wrong?" he asked while putting down the book.

"I think it just moved."

"What? Oh!" Sam sat up in his seat and glance at her small belly. A little smiled formed on his face. "Do you think I could feel it?"

"I could barely feel it and it's probably kicking at my guts. Give it a few more weeks or months to get some strength, then I'll be happy to share the abuse." His expression was happy, longing, and a little disappointed all in one. She took his hand, placing it on her belly, and waited for some movement. "Can you feel that?"

"I don't think so."

He was very briefly tempted to try reaching out with his powers to see if he could sense the baby, but decided against it. He didn't know if the baby would have enough demon in it for him to sense or whether it would risk hurting the baby. It took almost no concentration for him to sense demons under normal circumstances, but trying to parse the baby from Ruby would require more concentration. And while he was getting better at subtly using his powers, intense observation could easily accidentally turn into interference, which could be dangerous to the tiny baby of many unknown qualities.

As much as she knew that it was unlikely for him to feel anything so minor, Ruby had hoped that he would surprise her. She knew that he was eager for more of a connection or interaction with the baby. She wanted to give him some sort of consolation.

"We could probably find out if it's a boy or girl at this point. Do you want to find another clinic when things slow down?" she offered.

Sam hesitated. He was curious, but at the same time he had an overwhelming aversion to getting another ultrasound. Every once in a while he would take the roll of photos out to look at and his mind would fill with uncomfortable questions. The grainy black and white photos conjured all sorts of strange interpretations of the shadows in the image. The nurse had said that it looked normal, but what if the dark patches in the picture hid something unnatural?

Yet, strangely, those thoughts didn't bother him by themselves. He was so excited for this kid that he didn't care if it was part demon. It was possible to fight against the darkness inside; he and Ruby had both proven that. But as much as he didn't care what the baby would be, he didn't want the issue to be forced. If they found out that there was something off, then they might have to really acknowledge the implications. There wasn't anything he could think of that they would find in an ultrasound that would demand action, but the recent years had brought so many unforeseeable events that he was scared to get bad news.

He was committed to the baby and he didn't want to feel like he had to justify their decision to have it to the ghost of his father or brother. Once the baby was born everything would be set in stone and he would make it work no matter what. He had met all sorts of creatures that managed to pass for human; he had even dated a few. And he was comforted to know that if worse came to worst, the baby could grow up with the coven where it would be accepted. But until the baby was born there would be the unspoken questions of 'what if...' or 'how could you be so selfish?'

Apart from his own anxieties over seeing the baby before it was born, he knew that the situation was unheard of and that made its discovery dangerous. Ruby had to be more careful than ever not to flash black eyes or use her somewhat enhanced demonic strength. She had to appear as human as possible in order to go unnoticed by hunters and demons alike. What if a nurse saw something on the ultrasound? Would they have to wipe her memory and destroy the evidence? The whole scenario sounded awful.

On the one hand there was a lot to be said for checking on the baby, but there were risks and fears associated with it. Now that Ruby could feel the baby, Sam hoped that its activity would help reassure them that the baby was doing alright. So far the pregnancy had proved very resilient and they had even gotten through the critical first twelve weeks without taking any of the precautions they had since implemented.

"I don't want to know what it is," he answered in a not-very-casual tone.

She eyed him, knowing that he had taken an awfully long time to come to such a simple conclusion. His phrasing had also been slightly telling in its ambiguity.

"Are we just going to keep pretending that this is a normal human kid?"

"Between us, I don't care what it is. But when I think about everything out in the world—I don't want to worry about whether others would judge us. We've both been called monster…." He could hardly bring himself to voice his fear. "I don't want to hear that about my kid. If it can't pass for human, then we'll make things work, but for right now I just…."

"That's fine." She put her hand on his in reassurance. "We'll just roll with the punches like we always have. If it makes you feel better though, I don't think it's gonna look weird or anything. I mean I couldn't imagine how it could look like an actual demon."

"What do you mean? What do demons look like?" Everytime he had imagined Hell it had been full of people, but he realized that that was just because he was used to seeing demons inside meatsuits.

"All sorts of things. There's no standard mold. That's why it's so hard to imagine what about the kid could look different. Demons, we're just a manifestation of our old broken soul. There are some trends depending on how they broke you, but it's mostly dependent on personality and history. The self-loathing ones are generally scarred and bloody messes. Torquen—the torturing asshole demons—they tend to look like that big guy in Fantasia. They're pretty full of themselves. But demons could be nearly anything that shows their nature. So, I mean, how could a baby be a manifestation of anything other than itself? It's not going to have any history to warp its appearance and the whole manifesting appearance thing only works in Hell for normal demons. So why should the kid look demony at all?"

He spent a few seconds considering the idea of one's appearance reflecting the self. "What do you look like?"

"I try to look like my old self as much as possible; a lot of demons do. It's normal to try to hang on to parts of your old life. But it's tough. Over time it can be hard to remember the details…. I don't remember what my face looked like." She gripped the steering wheel and frowned for a moment. "Down in the pit I'm not a pretty sight."

"If you're a reflection of your—I guess 'soul' isn't the right word." He tried to be sensitive to the fact that she didn't technically have a soul anymore, but he never knew how to holistically describe Ruby's life force, moral character, and personality. "Anyway, how bad could you be?"

"I remember the worst qualities of myself as a human, mental, but also physical. I had burns on my face, neck and arms, and some scars—" She cut herself off, wanting to spare him the gorey details. "I don't look like that all the time down there. The more experienced or magically-attuned demons can mimic meatsuits that they've used for long stretches. A lot of Hell's aristocracy have favorite meatsuits, so they look the same even though the body doesn't actually go to Hell. I can't mimic exactly, but I can at least take features. Try to fix my face, but it's not really my face."

"I never thought I'd be wondering what a half-demon looks like. "

"Well, in four or five months you won't have to wonder anymore."

* * *

The decision to have a child together had made Sam reconsider the nature of his relationship with Ruby. If someone had asked him what their relationship was, he would've responded that they were just good friends… with benefits. But he internally acknowledged that his little crush had grown into legitimate affection. He wasn't prepared to say that he was in love with her, but mostly because his relationship with Ruby was so different from his with Jessica, the last person he could honestly say he had been in love with. He never thought of Ruby as his girlfriend, but they had occasionally been mistaken for a couple while on the road and both of them just rolled with that cover.

It felt like they had an unspoken agreement to not label what was happening between them. In a way that made a lot of sense to Sam; there were so many facets of their relationship that didn't conform to a stereotypical dating couple, friends, or mere professional partners. But the lack of a label had given a slight uncertainty to it. If they had been dating there would have been an illusion of commitment or long-term thinking. Before finding out about the pregnancy, they hadn't been thinking very far ahead at all since there was the ever-present risk of death. But with the baby, they had to think ahead and expect that on some level they would be in each other's lives for the foreseeable future.

The acknowledgement of a long-term relationship continued to be left unspoken for the most part, until Ruby began to show and strangers began pressing the issue. On two occasions, they were denied service at small establishments on account of having a child out of wedlock. The third time, Ruby yelled at the waitress some bullshit line about how they had been mugged and their wedding rings were stolen. Dinner was on the house that night and afterward they decided that maybe wearing rings in more conservative areas might simplify their lives. He ended up wearing a fake wedding ring with his demon not-quite-girlfriend who was expecting their unprecedented baby, but it was the most solid thing in Sam's life and he had to admit that he was happy.

* * *

Tessa's warning of some coming threat was transmitted through every major hunters network that Bobby could think of, and it was generally received at face value. Ellen and Jo even utilized some old Roadhouse connections to help spread the word. Within a week, Bobby had established a twenty-four state hunter support chain that continually updated each other on regional omens and happenings. After word came through that several North Carolina hunters from a different hunters group had their recent memories wiped by something, Bobby's network implemented a policy of backing up hunt research and logs with other nearby hunters.

The result was that Bobby was able to compile the most comprehensive set of data on supernatural activities across the country. In general, the patterns indicated a large swell in demonic activity. Half of the demons seemed to move in strange ripples across two-or-three-state regions at a time. The remaining activity seemed to cluster randomly before it resulted in some bizarre event or massacre. There wasn't any obvious pattern to the attacks, which was worrying because they seemed to be coordinated.

The biggest clue supporting the idea that they were planned events was that within the first month after Tessa's warning, there had been three warnings about the demonic attacks prior to them happening. The warnings appeared on an online hunter message board that Bobby monitored and always came at least one day before the attacks. Bobby didn't think much of it when he saw the first warning because a whole lot of crazy ended up on the boards, but after it had proved to be right, the anonymous user had Bobby's attention.

Dean had been relieved to find out that Sam was still alive, but beyond that he didn't have much to go on. He spent most of his free time searching online for any news articles that contained someone matching Sam's description, but that was basically scraping at the bottom of the barrel. After several days of no luck, he had agreed to help Bobby with setting up and orchestrating the hunter network. Ever since he began hunting without his dad, Dean had always been the leader in whatever small group he found himself in, but now he was starting to gain some small amount of command experience. He'd assess threats and coordinate the hunters in the area. More than anything he wanted to get out on the road and find Sam, but without a lead he knew it was better for him to help Bobby.

On a particularly quiet morning two months after Tessa's visit, Dean decided to go into town on a beer run. Just outside the driveway he noticed a woman in a plum-colored hijab and charcoal grey business suit. She was standing by the roadside staring at him. Her professional attire looked completely out of place by the dirt road. Dean pulled over and got out of the rundown '72 Ford Capri he had borrowed from Bobby.

"Can I help you?" Dean asked as she took a few steps toward him into the middle of the road.

"As a matter of fact you can. I'd like to discuss a new transaction, Dean." She smiled politely and flashed red eyes.

Dean straightened slightly and looked around. Bobby's driveway was located right up against a three way intersection, creating a sort of crossroads. The demon had been waiting out there for who-knew-how-long to talk to him. That was surprising. He couldn't recall hearing about a Crossroads demon seeking a person out like that. He'd only ever known them to be summoned. For a second he thought of beginning the exorcism incantation, but he wasn't entirely sure he could remember the whole thing off the top of his head. The demon wasn't in a trap and both the Colt and Ruby's knife were long gone, leaving him relatively defenseless.

"I'm not here to hurt you," she continued, sensing his alarm.

"Somehow I find that hard to believe." Dean inched closer to the Capri.

"I'm here to make you an offer." He was almost to the driver's side door when she added, "It's about Sam."

She had caught Dean's attention. He hated demons more than ever after the trip downstairs, but the situation with Sam was desperate. His hand moved away from the car door and he took a defensive but listening stance.

"I don't get it. I made a deal, but I'm out of Hell," he observed. "Why aren't you dragging me back down? What's with the pleasantries all of a sudden?"

"You stopped being our concern as soon as Lilith took your contract from us." Dean thought he heard some bitterness in her voice. "As a rule, why should we care if Lilith loses her souls?"

"We?"

"The Crossroads," she explained. "It's despicable that she would take your contract, but when she let your soul slip through her fingers…. Well, it serves her right."

Their discussion was starting to move beyond Dean's pay grade and they both knew it. He had always assumed that Lilith was in the same chain of command as the Crossroads demon that he had dealt with, especially after hearing that she held his contract. But it sounds like they were venturing into something political and in spite of all his time in Hell, he had never notice nuanced interactions between demons.

She redirected the conversation. "Anyway, you want to kill Lilith, but it's not your main priority until after you find your brother." She looked at him with an extra measure of seriousness to emphasize her upcoming point. "The Crossroads is not obliged to get in your way. It would of course be unseemly for us to take any direct actions against an archdemon, even if she is... problematic. But we're inclined to expedite anything that is delaying you taking direct actions."

"You want me to kill Lilith?" he asked, causing the demon to smile, but she didn't say anything. It was incredibly tempting to dive into negotiations, but ninety years of torture was enough for him to learn his lesson. "No dice. You're not getting my soul."

"We don't want you back," she replied coolly. "Not for the foreseeable future at least."

"What?"

That was the last thing he had expected to hear. Crossroads demons only ever wanted souls. It was what they were known for. He had never heard of one settling for anything less, let alone angling for something else in the first place.

"Something pulled you from one of our deepest pits, killing over seven hundred demons and one thousand souls in the process."

He had been hoping for details on his escape, but that sort of destruction was not something he was prepared to process.

"Something? It wasn't Sammy making a deal?"

"Your brother has been cut off from the Crossroads ever since he killed two of us." That was news to Dean. "Anyway, the Crossroads is currently working on a temporary ban on your soul re-entering Hell. It might take a little while to go into effect so try not to die in the next few days."

He shifted his weight, then crossed his arms in front of his chest. "If you don't want my soul, what do you want?"

"Information. I would like to examine your soul and memories. Just a quick peek and you'll be done with your end of the bargain." She tried to charm him with a warm smile, but that only clued Dean into how badly she wanted the deal.

"You wanna know what freed me." The deal was suddenly making more sense. "It scares the crap out of you and you guys have no idea what it is either…. Honestly, the thought of you evil sons of bitches running scared in the dark kind of makes me want to take a pass."

"One thousand human souls were destroyed; does that mean nothing to you?" She switched tactics, deciding to appeal to his guilt and duty.

"As long as they were in Hell, that sounds like an act of mercy," he countered.

"It's not just Hell. This thing has been to Earth."

"What?"

The Crossroads demon hesitated briefly, debating how much of her hand she would tip in order to persuade him. "It left four human bodies in Hell—not souls, bodies. We don't deal in flesh. Those were the first bodies in Hell in millennia. This thing must have grabbed them from Earth and dragged or rode them down. So, ignoring the massacre on our... residents, four humans died so that you could live."

Dean didn't know what to say. He thought of his completely scarless chest that had been torn into ribbons of meat just about a year earlier. He'd assumed that it was Sam who had paid the price for his resurrection, but it looked like it was four random humans... at least four.

"You know firsthand the power demons have in Hell," she continued. "If this thing could do so much damage in Hell and doesn't give a second thought to human casualties, then I don't think you're about to let it go completely unchecked."

He hated that she wasn't wrong. "And I'm supposed to believe that Hell is going to stop the big bad?"

"Hell is going to do nothing. I represent the Crossroads," she corrected him. "And we are prepared to help you find your brother in exchange for helping us find a killer."


	16. The Warehouse

Sam woke up to find himself sitting on a cold concrete floor. He was stripped to his underwear with his arms uncomfortably handcuffed around a steel I-beam behind him. His head was pounding and it was hard to concentrate on anything for a long while. He could hear voices talking quietly, but couldn't make out the words.

He and Ruby had stopped in Sidney, Ohio for a day to rest. Ruby had opted to stay in their motel room while he walked down the street to get some takeout food for dinner. On his way back he felt something sharp hit his chest and then he fell unconscious. Now, with his shirt off, Sam could see bruising around an injection site on his right pec. He had been hit with a tranquilizer dart.

He tried shifting to look at his surroundings. His muscles ached from the extended contact with the chilly floor and metal beam, as well as the negligent position he had been left in for was must have been at least an hour. He was on the main floor of a small warehouse that had been stripped of its machinery and abandoned years ago.

Three men were talking quietly in a small group about thirty feet away on the ground level. Above them he could spot two other men watching from catwalks. They were all armed with various types of guns. His powers were strong enough that it didn't take any effort for him to recognize that all the men were human.

Sam's stomach dropped when he realized that he had almost certainly been captured by hunters. He imagined they were connected to the mysterious Clare, the possible psychic with some sort of ax to grind in North Carolina. In the four months since he and Ruby had found out about the baby, they had fought and wiped part of the memories of twelve hunters. Two of the hunters had actually gone up against them twice and lost both times. Also, in addition to the twelve that were fine, four hunters had ended up severely injured or incidentally killed. In a way Sam regretted their deaths or grievous injuries, but he and Ruby had only been defending themselves.

The previous hunters had only tried to kill him, but the ones that he was dealing with right then had kept him alive for some reason. He didn't know if that was more or less concerning than the idea of being killed outright. He tried to listen to the group of three, who were talking amongst themselves. He was able to make out a discussion going on in hushed tones:

"The room was empty."

"Are you sure about this?"

"I don't know about killing a human."

"We can't take the risk."

The group of three men saw that he had woken up and approached him, stopping about five feet away. Sam noticed that they were trying to stand tall and imposingly around him. He was seated on the floor, which put him in the unusual position of looking up at others. Using height as a tool for intimidation was something Sam was very familiar with, mostly because he often had to consciously try to make himself look smaller to put others at ease. These hunters were clearly going to try to get something out of him.

"What do you want?" Sam asked, trying to put them on the defensive by taking away the opening question, but they didn't bite.

He identified the taller man in the middle as the leader when he stepped slightly forward and spoke. "Why are you in town?"

Sam weighed his options. He could try to stay silent, probably be tortured, and almost certainly not learn anything from being asked the same question over and over again. Or he could feign cooperation and hope that the hunters revealed more secrets than him. The hunter to Sam's right stepped forward and punched him in the face, but was waved off by the leader.

"Just passing through. Let me guess: you're all here on a hunt?" Sam could taste blood as he smiled up at them.

None of them acknowledged being called out as hunters. The leader just continued his line of questioning. "Are there any demons or anyone else in this town who's helping you?"

"No," Sam lied, immediately earning a kick in the gut that knocked him back into the steel beam.

"What about the woman you're staying with?"

So they had been watching him for at least an hour before grabbing him; otherwise they only would have seen him running errands alone. This was a different modus operandi than the usual hunters who would have gone after him at the first opportunity. Maybe it was because he and Ruby had arrived in town during the day and were staying in a more populated part of town, forcing the hunters to wait until it was darker and Sam was more isolated. Thanks to a scarcity of vacant rooms, the two of them had been forced to take a motel room that faced onto a fairly active street, which was not ideal for subtle escapes, but was equally problematic for daytime raids. But as much as the idea of being stalked was unsettling, the sudden realization that the hunters might not just settle for him in their hunt was worse.

He had hesitated a bit too long.

"We saw her."

The hunter's words were both distressing and relieving. They hadn't taken her, but he couldn't tell if that was because they hadn't tried yet or if they had failed. So far, they didn't have any reason to think he was lying, apart from any pre-existing biases. He decided to lie and hopefully talk them out of involving Ruby.

"She has nothing to do with this," Sam told them. "I'm just working a job and she needed protection."

"You're sharing a room," the leader said flatly.

"It's not like that—"

He took another kick to the ribs before the the designated enforcer on the right was waved off.

"Really, because I think it's a little hard to believe that some little pregnant lady is going to be fine sharing a room with some big guy she just met who happens to be armed to the teeth. I don't care if you've got puppy dog eyes or a charming smile."

"I was just protecting her."

The leader squatted down to be at eye level with Sam, who didn't know how to interpret the gesture. "From what?"

"Demons. There were some in Bowling Green, Ohio. I'm sure you saw the omens." Sam was scrambling to make up a convincing lie and had managed to anchor it in a little bit of truth. "It was a deal gone bad. I was just trying to get her out of the area. That's all."

"Tell you what, how about you tell us where she is, and we can handle that for you." The lead hunter smiled in an unnerving way. He wasn't playing nice; he was baiting Sam and it was obvious. "You know, a favor. One hunter to… whatever the hell you are."

Sam could see that they were dancing around acquisitions—probably a fight… well, an argument—involving him getting kicked a few more times. "You don't know where she is."

"She ditched the motel room. You wouldn't happen to know why?" the leader asked accusingly.

"Maybe she thought you were demons?" suggested Sam.

The hunter to Sam's left was visibly losing his conviction. He had appeared nervous in general, but each time Sam said something reasonable he seemed to like the situation less and less. The guy shifted uncomfortably as he glanced to the other hunters looking for their own reactions.

"How long have you known her?"

He decided to lie quickly, hoping that it would be convincing. "One week."

"Is that so?" The lead hunter pulled Sam's cell phone from his jacket pocket. Sam felt like an idiot for not seeing that coming. "So you're saying that if I were to go through your call history, none of the phone numbers more than a week old would be hers?"

It had been three weeks since they had switched their burner phones. It wasn't common for the two of them to split up long enough that they would need to call each other, but it did happen. He couldn't remember if they had called each other on those phones earlier than a week ago, but even if they had he couldn't think of a convincing lie to explain it. He just decided to roll the dice and flatly deny that her number would be in there.

"Yes."

The hunter started working through the call history. The first few numbers were motels, a police station, and a hospital. On the sixth call, he smiled at the sound of a concerned woman's voice. The hunter shook his head at Sam, who felt his heart sink a few inches.

"Is this the woman staying with Sam Winchester? ...Nice try, sweetie, but I'm not buying it for a second." He put his hand over the phone and told the other hunters that she insisted she was with a guy named Keith Ness. Sam understood from that that Ruby was still trying to work their main cover, or was at least trying to confuse the situation. "Listen, if you want to see Sam or Keith again you'll come alone to 2471 Michigan St. in two hours."

Sam tried not to let his expression change. It didn't make any sense for the hunters to all of a sudden be fine with letting him live. The hunter hadn't asked Ruby to bring anything so all they wanted was her. He felt sick.

The hunter listened to something Ruby said, looked at Sam, then held the phone out so that it was two feet from Sam's face. "Say 'hi,' Sammy," instructed the leader.

She had asked for proof that he was alive. Sam didn't say anything at first. He knew that Ruby was smart enough to already suspect it was a trap, but she was also just crazy enough that she might try saving him in spite of it. If circumstances had been slightly different he might have given her fair odds, even against five hunters, but almost everything was stacked against her. The hunters held a probably-fortified location, outnumbered her at least five-to-one, and had him as a hostage. Not to mention the fact that at seven months pregnant, Ruby wasn't in any condition to get into a fight. Probably the only thing that she had going in her favor was that the hunters appeared to know nothing about her.

When the overzealous hunter to the right kicked Sam in the gut, he decided to try cluing her into the hunters' ignorance. "She doesn't even know what's going on. She's just a civilian—" Sam started loudly pleading, before taking a hit to the head, knocking him out.

* * *

When he woke up the phone call was over and the hunters had changed positions. The leader and the feisty one had pulled up folding chairs so they could wait for him to regain consciousness in comfort. The anxious hunter had retreated to watch from the far wall of the warehouse, and the two other hunters weren't in view.

"You're awake." The leader leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You know, I thought we had a good rapport going and then you had to go lying to me."

"Yeah, well…. I get the feeling that you wouldn't believe me even if I told you the truth. I might as well tell you something you would believe." Sam was tired of playing around. At that point, Ruby would either be on her way or not and he wasn't going to be able to do anything about that. The most he could do was to try to understand what the hunters wanted and that meant talking frankly. "What do you even want?"

"To stop you, demons, your kind... A war is coming and there's a lot of talk about the Sam Winchester. I happen to have it on good authority that you're supposed to lead an army of demons."

Sam thought back to the whole Azazel fiasco and wondered if he would ever live that down. "That didn't happen—"

"Yet. But my group has been tracking you for awhile. I think you've met a few of them." He glared down at Sam. "Something that we've noticed is that you're always right in the middle of a whole bunch of demonic activity—"

"Because I'm fighting them," Sam interjected.

"The problem here is that I don't believe you, and you don't seem to have a problem lying to me." Sam could feel his opportunities to escape melting away as the hunter spoke. "I think it's more believable that you're actually a demonic psychic or witch or whatever and you're helping to bring down this massive Hellstorm that's starting. I mean it's your lying word versus my group's year of research."

"Fine. But I don't get it. You have me. Why do you want the girl?" Sam tried to sound unattached to Ruby, but he doubted his subtle lies were even registering.

"Like I said, we're trying to stop your kind. That means the kid too."

Sam straightened up and his eyes widened. He had assumed that they were after Ruby for some reason that had to do with her being an accomplice. The baby hadn't even factoring into his thinking. Fear must have painted his face because the hunters looked like they could see his vulnerability.

"The kid isn't even mine!" He was grasping at the last straw.

"But the problem is," the leader said with a shrug, "that that's just what a dad would say."

Sam leaned his head backward against the steel beam. He couldn't think of a way out of the situation. His credibility was ruined with that group and they were taking the conservative approach to hunting, which called for not leaving any possible survivors.

The hunters silently watched him as he sat quietly on the floor, defeated. Occasionally, he would shake his head and say that the baby wasn't his, but the hunters were unmoved. He tried to use his powers, but against humans they were weak and unreliable. The most he was able to manage was lightly tussling their hair and jackets—and they might very well have been correct in dismissing that as the wind. As time passed, he wondered if the two-hour mark was going to be soon, hopefully passing without incident, but it didn't.

Sam heard some commotion outside of the main room and looked up. Two hunters came in, each holding one of Ruby's arms. She had a purse with her, which she almost never did. As she got closer he also noticed that she was wearing a gold cross necklace. The irony of an atheist demon wearing a crucifix would have amused him, but he was too busy panicking over their predicament.

Ruby walked awkwardly, being lead by the arms and trying to keep up with their pace while waddling from her very large belly. She still had at least a month and a half to go, but for two weeks she had looked like she was ready to pop. At least once a day she would make a joke about wishing that Sam was a foot shorter. The nervous hunter on the far wall and the hunter holding her left arm looked visibly uncomfortable with her being there, betraying doubts about their moral high ground.

When Ruby was in front of the lead hunter, who had stood to meet her, she was released. She started to reach for the purse and began pleading with him.

"I couldn't find much money, but please—"

"This isn't about money," he said while grabbing the purse from her shoulder and tossing it to the side.

His quick motion made her instinctively raise her hands up defensively, but she forced herself not to attempt a punch. The hunter seemed to have expected a fight and hit her in the face, causing her to fall down. She broke her fall with her knees and hands, saving her belly from slamming into the floor. For several seconds Ruby continued to face the floor with her eyes closed, partially to recover from the fall, but more to calm herself enough to keep her eyes from turning black. The two uncomfortable-looking hunters rushed forward, ready to help her up, before the lead hunter shook his head at them.

Sam had jerked forward when Ruby fell, fighting frantically against his handcuffs without luck. "Leave her alone!" Sam yelled. "I'm telling you, she has nothing to do with this!"

"Yes, she does," the lead hunter snapped.

Ruby had raised herself up into a kneeling position on the ground a few feet in front of the leader. He drew a sawed off shotgun, pointed it at her chest, then lowered the barrel to aim at her belly.

"Please." Her voice was trembling and she started to tear up. "Please. Don't kill my husband and baby."

The two wavering hunters seemed to be pained by her words and moved closer uncertainly. Sam was too blinded by fear that he didn't even notice her lie about them being married.

She was crying and clutched the crucifix necklace. "Please, if you're going to kill us—just give me one prayer for our souls."

One of the two sympathetic hunters stepped forward and looked pointedly at the leader. The leader scowled, but relented.

"Fine," he agreed, but kept the shotgun fixed on her abdomen.

Sam was completely confused. He didn't understand what was happening. Ruby was clearly getting at something, but he couldn't tell what. All he knew was that the leader was still armed and threatening his baby. The scene was equally bizarre and terrifying so he kept struggling instinctively against his restraints.

Ruby folded her hands in prayer and began speaking quietly… in Latin. After a few seconds Sam started actually listening to what she was saying. He recognized the words for 'blood' and 'incineration.' She was casting a spell under the guise of last rites.

As she spoke, the lead hunter's brow furrowed and he tilted his head warily. "Alright, you're done," he said, but Ruby kept reciting the incantation.

The hunter took a determined stance and made to fire. Sam had finally hit a sufficient level of panic for his telekinesis to kick in, hurling the lead hunter backward. The hunter fired his shotgun mid-flight, but missed. Ruby rolled forward, using her arms to protect the baby as much as possible while she said the last word of the spell.

The purse, which had been lying forgotten on the floor, ignited in a brilliant flash of red light, temporarily blinding him. Screams cracked and faded into silence. His eyes started to recover as the smell of burnt flesh reached his nose. The hunters were all crumpled heaps on the floor.

After taking a second to recover, Ruby searched the leader's pocket and found the key to Sam's handcuffs. When she went around to uncuff him she cringed. He had been struggling against the metal handcuffs so forcefully that the skin below was swollen and bleeding. As she gently took off the cuffs she realized how lucky he had been to not slit his own wrists. His shoulders were so sore that she had to help him move his arms to be in front of him. Ruby tore off two strips of fabric from her shirt, which she used to temporarily bandage his wrists.

He was quiet from shock, still sitting on the cold concrete floor. Ruby knelt in front of him and placed his hand on her belly. She held his jaw in one hand and push some stray hair behind his ear with the other.

"You're okay." She spoke softly. "I'm okay. The baby's okay. We're all okay."

He hugged her weakly with his forearms, unable to use his wrists or hands easily. His head lowered onto her shoulder and he started crying as she ran her fingers through his hair.

* * *

For a week after the incident at the warehouse Sam wouldn't leave Ruby's side. He spooned her when he slept, holding her for comfort. The baby was moving normally, even after the stress and Ruby's fall, but he still asked her how she was feeling at least once an hour.

Ruby had been similarly upset by the whole experience. When Sam had disappeared she had fled the motel and watched it from afar. She saw two hunters check the motel room looking for her and followed them back to the warehouse. She had actually been one block from the warehouse when the lead hunter had called her, which meant she was able to use the entire two hours to prepare her rescue instead of having to spend forty-five minutes finding and scouting out the location.

She hadn't known how many hunters were in there, but she had suspected around seven. Instead of trying to fight them individually, she'd opted to use a purging spell. It would kill everything within a specified radius. She had never bothered using that sort of spell against demons because it only would've killed their meatsuits, but against humans it was very effective. When preparing the spell she had created an exception to its damage where it would not harm anything that shared Ruby's blood. That way the baby would be unharmed as well as Sam, who she had given blood to roughly a year earlier. But in spite of having a plan, the entire process of walking into a trap to save Sam had been exhausting.

By some random chance, a few days after the encounter at the warehouse, demonic activity came to an abrupt halt. At first they were worried that Lilith had found a way to hide her demons from scrying spells, but after a week of relative peace, Sam and Ruby realized that they weren't being followed. Their alarms were active and all the normal demonic omens were absent. Ruby couldn't think of any Holy Days or similar reasons why the demons would leave, which to her knowledge had never happened before. They were both grateful for the reprieve, but concerned about what it might mean.

They took the opportunity to slow down slightly and get some rest. Ruby was well into the third trimester, which made traveling for long stretches more difficult.

She had also started sleeping. The first time it happened had been frightening for both of them. They had been lying in bed together in Sam's favorite sleeping position, him spooning her with one hand on her belly, when she started shaking and screaming. Sam rolled her over to look at her and her eyes opened. She had fallen asleep and had had a nightmare about Hell. A few days later it happened again. After the fourth nightmare, she had stopped by a magic shop and bought a pendant of dreamless sleep, which she took to clutching in her hand while she rested. Over time her need for sleep had increased until it was an hour or two each day.

They were both asleep when the demon proximity alarm sounded for the first time in almost a month.


	17. Shola of the Crossroads

Dean didn't like the idea of being on a first-name-basis with a Crossroads demon, but Shola asked that he contact her directly in the future. She was very concerned about keeping their interactions secret, which he initially found a little suspicious, but considering the nature of the information she had wanted from him he supposed it was understandable. She seemed nice enough; every Crossroads demon he had ever met was charming, but he suspected one wouldn't steal very many souls with a poor bedside manner. In the end they reached a deal that was helpful to him, but predictably not as much as he would have preferred.

The Crossroads would help him find Sam, but it wasn't going to be as easy as telling Dean where his brother was. Shola explained that Sam appeared to be using some sort of anti-detection magic specifically designed to block demons from finding him; possibly some sort of high-powered hex bag. What Shola could do, though, was have all of the demons and humans under contract with the Crossroads watching for him, which would add nearly 400,000 eyes on the ground in the continental United States alone. Whenever Sam or the Impala was spotted, the information would be relayed to Dean immediately. Shola was firm on the point that Dean would not be teleported directly to the location where Sam was spotted. The Crossroads was insistent upon protecting the identities and physical safety of their assets in the field, but after a little while Dean would close Sam's lead and eventually catch him. Dean was unsure how effective that approach would be, but since he didn't have any other opinions or significant bargaining power he went along with it.

One week after the deal, Dean got a hit in Aurora, Illinois, near Chicago. It took ten hours to get there, giving Sam a moderate head start. Dean checked the local motels, but couldn't find him. With no lead to tell him which direction his brother was heading in, Dean just waited in the area. A few days later he got another hit.

It went like that for a month or so. A few times Dean thought he was getting close, but the tip would turn out to be false. He would see an Impala, but it would belong to some woman or all the rooms in the only motel were booked by couples and families. He once got a motel manager to confirm that Sam had been there a half hour earlier, and he had just left heading east, but the next tip via the Crossroads placed Sam west of the motel.

It was an incredibly frustrating process made worse by the fact that Dean could tell that he was close. He cynically kept expecting to find a half-drunk, still-warm cup of coffee in the motel rooms he checked. But as frustrating as following the tips was, it was even worse when Hell suddenly went radio silent.

Dean was in Wichita, Kansas waiting for the next tip when Bobby called. Without any warning or tapering off, all demonic activities had stopped. More than that, the demons had left. There weren't any omens on the maps at all.

Dean tried summoning Shola, but she didn't show. Then he tried summoning any Crossroads demon, but only found himself standing alone in the middle of the street. He couldn't tell which was worse, losing contact with his informants or the realization of how much he had been dependent on demons lately.

The thought made him feel sick. He had spent ninety years taking the worst kinds of abuse from demons and now he was pacing anxiously like a dog waiting for scraps. But as much as they might have been using him, he had been using them to help him track Sam. To find his brother he was willing to swallow his pride for a little longer, but once Sam was found it would be hunting season on all demons, Crossroads or not.

* * *

Almost an entire month had passed before the demons came back, but when they did it was in force. Bobby's omen maps were covered in pushpins indicating activity. Their hunter network was completely outnumbered so Bobby called Dean back in to help prioritize the threats. After a few hours of mapping all the new data, Bobby noticed a change in the behavior of the demons. There were still groups moving in waves around different regions of the country, and there were still clusters prefacing some weird event, but there was also a lot of chaotic activity. The bulk of the newcomers didn't seem to be organized in any way, and some seemed to not be causing much trouble at all.

The whole thing didn't make sense. Hell had just unleashed hundreds of demons upon the Earth for no apparent reason. Yet, as much as Dean wanted answers about the new demons, he was more interested in getting an update on Sam. So he decided to try summoning Shola again. He drew the summoning sigil on the floor in the study and began the ritual. Bobby sat on a nearby chair to join in the discussion.

Shola appeared in the center of the summoning circle. She wore a dark red hijab and tailored black suit. Dean was thrown by the hijab. At their first meeting he had assumed that it had belonged to the body she had been possessing, but seeing one for the second time struck him as more than a coincidence.

"The, um—scarf thing—" Dean said while gesturing around his own head. "You don't just have a thing for possessing Muslim girls, do you?"

"No, this one is actually Unitarian. I wear a hijab," Shola replied, causing Bobby to lean forward in his chair, eyes wide with interest. She looked over at him and he stood up to insert himself into the conversation.

"As-salamu alaykum," Bobby offered as a greeting to her.

"Wa 'alaykum al-salaam," she said in polite response.

Bobby's eyes lit up as his mind filled with questions. He'd never met a demon that followed a human religion. He had heard that demons worshipped the devil and had their own faith based on that, but the idea that there might be multiple religions in Hell was a complete revelation.

"I don't understand." Bobby jumped right in, halting Dean's line of questioning before he'd even begun. "How can you be Muslim if you're a demon? I thought all demons worshiped the devil."

"Why would what I am or where I reside change my faith?" She gave a small, rhetorical shrug to her question and his presumptions. "Hell has followers of every religion. Sometimes they convert to follow Lucifer or lose their faith entirely, but a significant number of us hold onto our faith, at least to some degree. It's one of the things they try to take from you while breaking your soul, but often enough it's too much a part of you to really be destroyed. It was the one shred of beauty that I could remember from my life so when I became a demon I continued to practice."

She spoke with a soft confidence that came from having a profound understanding of herself. It was a quality that Bobby recognized from some of the veteran hunters he knew, who had reached old age by virtue of wisdom alone.

"So, you didn't bet on the wrong horse?" Dean asked, drawing a sidelong glance from Shola.

"As far as I can tell, there's no 'right horse' for evading Hell. This may surprise you, but a lot of good, devout people end up in Hell."

"I'm a walking example of that." Dean smiled smugly. "Well, maybe not the 'devout' part."

Shola grinned back at Dean. "The good part is also debatable."

"So, what, you're some kind of saint that was sent to Hell by mistake?" Dean asked.

"I was far from a saint, but I don't think I was evil. I made a deal and the Crossroads demon that negotiated with me saw my potential. I was lucky. The Crossroads doesn't care about your personal life as long as you can close deals. If I had ended up in a more conservative caste, my faith may have proven… problematic." She trailed off thinking about unpleasant alternatives to her current existence, but then she looked at Dean with new focus. "But speaking of deals, I imagine you didn't summon me here to talk theology."

"I want to know where Sam is and also, what was with Hell going quiet for four weeks?" Dean crossed his arms to emphasize his determination.

"I don't know Sam's location, but our assets are watching for him. Now that things have…." She chose her words carefully. "The channels between Earth and Hell have normalized," she amended, "which means that information should begin flowing as usual in the next day or so."

"What do you mean normalized? What happened down there?" Bobby asked.

"It is an internal matter and I am not going to discuss it." She kept her soft tone, but stood taller.

"It's an internal matter? I know about your mystery monster that killed hundreds of you guys and this is too secret to even hint at?" Dean threw his hands up.

"I can't discuss it."

"Well, what if I make you discuss it?" Dean not-so-casually threatened, but she didn't visibly react.

"You won't, because I'm not a fool, Dean. Every contract I make is provisional on my existence. You can threaten me, but you can't kill me without losing the intelligence on your brother. Also, don't forget that I already have what I want from our arrangement. You've lost your bargaining chip and killing me will guarantee that the Crossroads never deals with you again." Dean and Bobby were both a little taken aback by her laying out the facts so coldly. "Here's what I can tell you, and hopefully you find some comfort in it: we're going through a period of… damage control, but the Crossroads will actively attempt to reduce the demonic presence on Earth as soon as possible."

"Why?" Dean asked as his brow furrowed.

"Many of our dealings work better in the shadows. Our entire system would have to be revamped if suddenly the world knew demons were real. I don't think anyone is looking forward to overhauling all of our procedures right now. The short-term losses would be staggering." Dean and Bobby just blinked at her. "Well, if that's all for now—"

"One last thing!" Bobby blurted out before she disappeared. "When we aren't up to our necks in demonic omens, could I summon you?—I have a million questions about Hell."

She smiled at him. "If you make it worth my while, I'll tell you everything I can."

"I don't suppose instead of my soul, you'd settle for a bottle of—" He stopped himself short of offering her alcohol.

"Keep your whiskey, and your soul. I'm not allowed to disclose any of Hell's secrets that approach that value. Let it never be said that Shola of the Crossroads makes deals that are unconscionable. If you think of something else I might like, we'll talk." She actually winked at him. "As-salamu alaykum."

"Wa 'alaykum al-salaam," Bobby returned, then she disappeared.

Dean was staring at Bobby with a look of confusion. "Did you almost just ask a demon over for drinks?"

Bobby turned a little pink. "Blow it out your ass."

"You know I think she might be the only woman in existence that's too old for you," Dean joked.

"I was just trying to get some information. How often do we really get to find out what it's like in Hell?" Bobby asked, making Dean's smile fade as his lips thinned and he waved his hand up and down his body indicating himself. Bobby cringed at the oversight. "Ok, poor choice of words. But I'm talking about the view from the ranchers, not the cows."

"Thanks. Thanks for that."

"You know what I mean. She seemed a bit less vicious than your average demon."

"It might be a Crossroads thing." Dean suggested. "Every one of them that I've ever met seemed like they'd rather talk you to death than stab you to death."

"Makes sense. They're basically the lawyers of Hell."

"That sounds redundant."

* * *

Shola was right that once communication was established again the search for Sam sped up quickly. Dean was able to get right on his brother's trail within three days and after that Sam's lead was never more than a day.

After another two weeks Dean hit a lucky break. Sam took an abrupt swing north along Highway 29 out of western Iowa during winter. Through some miracle there was a large stormfront coming through the area, which meant that smaller roads would be shut down and Sam would likely need to stop somewhere. If he was trying to find a place to hide where the streets were likely to be cleared as quickly as possible, then he'd have to head for the biggest city in the area. That would place him in Sioux Falls, South Dakota between then and the end of the storm.


	18. In From the Cold

"If you're gonna play Bowie at least play Ziggy Stardust."

Ruby leaned across the motel room bed to see what music Sam was selecting on the iPod. He glanced up at her, a little taken aback by her disparaging comment about David Bowie.

"Don't act like Bowie is some ordeal. You like 'Under Pressure.'"

"'Under Pressure' is Queen; Bowie was only featured." She smiled smugly.

"It was a collaboration," he pointed out, "and you're not getting off on some technicality. Anyway, we've been listening to your music all week. I get at least a day criticism-free."

"Fine, but if you play that 'Major Tom' song I will break—"

He silenced her with a kiss as he turned on Ziggy Stardust. She inched closer to him on the bed and started sliding her fingers along his chest, lifting his shirt up. Sam raised a mischievous eyebrow.

"It's snowing out and we're in a good-sized city," she purred. "I think we can afford a little break. Anyway, the alarms are set so it's not like we'll get caught with our pants down—so to speak."

For the last two weeks they'd been scrambling to stay ahead of the demons that had returned to the earth's surface in force. According to the demonic omen maps that Sam had quickly drafted there were probably twice as many demons roaming the country as before they had all disappeared. Their presence was so oppressive that occasionally he would sense groups of them from a mile or two away. It was like the more there were, the more his awareness of them pushed in on him.

One night while they'd been driving through Iowa the feeling became so strong that he got a migraine, like he used to get when he first started using his powers. In order to avoid the mob of demons they were forced to turn north into South Dakota. It was one of the last places they wanted to go during winter, but the alternative was facing enough demons to overwhelm Sam's senses from miles away. With Ruby over eight months pregnant they couldn't afford to have him incapacitated, so they'd opted to brave the snowstorm.

The alarm sounded while they were both asleep. Ruby propped herself up on one elbow, but didn't expend the effort to get out of bed since Sam was already moving to check the alarm. It was around three in the morning and a small opening in the curtains showed that there was a break in the snowfall. Seeing the array of glass spheres, Sam ran a hand through his hair while puffing out a sigh in frustration. Ruby decided to get up when he immediately started getting dressed. The alarms indicated that there were demons within a mile to the west, north, and east.

"How'd they get past the five-miles alarm?" Sam asked while lacing up his boots.

"They could've just blinked in," she speculated. "They might just be guessing you're in town. It's not like they're likely to catch you on the road right now, so why bother coming in via the highways?"

"We should've just stayed in a smaller town and dealt with the snow." Sam pulled out a map of Sioux Falls to get an idea of where the demons might be and the safest route out of the area.

"You don't know that they aren't checking the small towns too," she replied, earning a head-tilt of acknowledgment.

"The roads south were closed when we came in—probably still are. We could skirt the southeastern area here and get a clear shot at the highway. If we try to go any other direction we'll have to move through a lot more of the city or face other, smaller road closures." He rechecked the alarms against the map and his shoulders slumped. "I can feel it; this is going to be a fight. At this point they're too close for us to just slip by."

"Well, let's get rolling," Ruby suggested. She had somehow managed to get dressed while he had been looking over the map.

"You aren't going." Ruby opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. "You aren't fighting and you aren't going to get seen. I'll go clear the way real quick and come back. You get our stuff together and be ready to move."

She tried to cross her arms in front of her chest, but her belly made it difficult. "You know I'm not a fan of the whole splitting-up thing."

"I'm not either, but you're in no shape to fight and even if they're looking for me I'm sure they'll happily take a shot at you if you're around."

"Well, be careful. You can't count on me to swoop in to save your ass if you're making me warm the bench."

"I promise. I'll be careful." He kissed her lips and then knelt down to kiss her belly. "I'll be back within a half hour."

* * *

Sam only drove three blocks before he started sensing the demons. They were covering large stretches, but he managed to locate a weak point. He could feel a group of maybe four moving down a nearby side street. After parking at the opening to the side street, he got out of the Impala and drew Ruby's knife.

He saw three demons coming out of a building, probably having just searched it. They were watching him, but keeping their distance even when he started to approach them. The whole thing confused him for a second until he realized they were waiting for something. His instincts had been right, there had been four demons down that street, but one of them had left.

Sam immediately felt the dizzying presence as a dozen demons teleported in around him. He held his arms up defensively to try to block what seemed like an endless number of incoming punches. He pushed outward with his powers, knocking most the them backward several feet, but there were just too many. The demons fought him as a group, coming at him in waves so that he could not avoid every attack. He began to lose track of the fight. He had stabbed and thrown so many demons that surely they must have brought in more reinforcements.

After an unknown amount of time in the chaotic brawl, Sam took a knife to his right side. He staggered forward a step and was hit hard in the back of the head. Falling to the ground, he saw headlights approaching beyond the mob. He lost consciousness to the sound of car doors and a man shouting.

* * *

Dean was out in the yard loading up one of Bobby's junk pickup trucks when Bobby got the call. It was Sheriff Mills calling in on the local line. After a run in with a zombie a few years back, she had agreed to clue Bobby into any strange happenings in the Sioux Falls area. A few minutes earlier, one of her subordinates radioed in that he saw some people with black eyes before she lost communication with him. She was afraid to send one of her own people in on what was looking like hunter business so she gave Bobby the last known coordinates of the deputy.

Bobby checked the latest data for the storm and demonic omens. Sure enough, there was a surge of activity in the last hour right near where the deputy had disappeared. With so many demons in the area and a missing deputy, Bobby and Dean decided to stick together instead of splitting up.

It took twenty minutes for them to reach the neighborhood where the deputy went missing. They found his body ten feet from his squad car, neck snapped and halfway sunk into the fresh snow. There were faint tracks in the snow from at least four attackers. The footprints led away from the body, down a street, occasionally fanning out to check doorways and alleys as if they were searching. Yet the footsteps moved with intent in one direction before abruptly disappearing halfway down the block.

"What do you think that means?" Dean asked pointing at the final footprints.

"Either they started walking backwards or they were definitely demons and they wanted to be somewhere else fast."

Dean looked at Bobby with an eyebrow raised. "Yeah, but were they running away from something or to something?"

Bobby shrugged, then glanced back at the dead deputy. "We should probably look around the area; there might've been more attacks."

"Yeah. And if Sam's hunting in the area he'll probably be around here somewhere," Dean added hopefully.

They climbed back into the truck and Bobby began cautiously driving around the neighborhood. Dean loaded their sawed off shotguns with salt rounds and began readying two large, plastic jugs of holy water. It was the middle of the night in the middle of winter so they had the advantage of there being almost no civilians around. Everybody walking around was suspect, which meant they could take a quicker pass through the area.

"Four demons on one civilian…." Dean sighed and shook his head. "How many do you think are around?"

"At least four."

"Real helpful there, Bobby." The old hunter just shrugged. "This is a hell of a time to not have the knife or the Colt. I can't believe we—"

Bobby slammed on the brakes so hard that Dean jerked forward, hitting the dashboard. He looked up to yell at Bobby, but didn't say anything. Out the driver's side window he could see the Impala two blocks down a side street. Bobby reversed, then started down the street towards the car. When they got about a block away they could make out a group of people on the opposite side of the Impala.

"Oh, fuck—no!" Dean gasped as he saw that it was a fight, and, collapsing in the middle of the mob, was Sam.

Bobby stopped the truck, grabbed a shotgun from Dean, and the two hunters were out of the truck within a second. The scene was unbelievable. Sam had been fighting eight demons when they arrived, but there also appeared to be at least half a dozen bodies on the ground. Taking on more the three demons with just the knife was basically suicide, but that…. Dean had no idea how Sam had managed to get himself into that situation, but he put the thought out of his mind.

"Get away from him you evil sons of bitches!" Dean yelled while swinging the jug of holy water, splashing most of them.

Bobby fired two salt shells into the remaining demons, making them crumple and scream in pain. While the demons were temporarily distracted by their own agony, Dean and Bobby ran for Sam's unconscious body. They lifted his upper body and Dean realized how long it would take to drag him back to the truck, then started digging through Sam's right jacket pocket. He immediately found the keys to the Impala and rushed to unlock the doors. Bobby didn't bother trying to move Sam on his own. Instead he used the time to throw his gallon of holy water over the screaming demons. Dean returned to help Bobby drag Sam into the Impala. Bobby ran for the front passenger's seat and Dean made for the driver's seat, but stopped short.

He saw the demon-killing knife in the snow where Sam must have dropped it when he'd lost consciousness. Dean dove for the knife, grabbing it as a demon feebly tackled him. He rolled with the attacker, putting himself on top and then drove the knife into the demon's chest before looking up to see that the other demons had started recovering. His heart was hammering and he could start to feel a slight combat high as he sized up the demons. The thought of killing every last one of them made a small, menacing grin curl his lips, but he was shaken out of the strange daze by the sound of Bobby yelling for him. Dean tumbled for the Impala, ducking briefly as Bobby fired two more salt shells above him, out the open driver's door. Dean had barely closed his door by the time that he was speeding away recklessly through the snowy streets.

* * *

They laid Sam down on the living room couch. Dean kept pressure on the stab wound while Bobby ran to grab the first aid kit. Sam had been unconscious the entire drive back to Bobby's and only seemed to be getting worse. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth as a bruise began forming along the left side of his face.

Dean started silently crying as he pushed the shoulder-length hair out Sam's face with one hand, while pressing on the wound with the other. He had spent over eight months trying to find his lost little brother, and the moment they were reunited had been horrific. He had thought that he would find Sam at a motel or checking out a haunt. Sam would have been surprised and confused, but they would've soon hugged and been a family again. Instead Sam was lying there, bruised and bleeding on Bobby's couch.

Bobby returned with the first aid kit and began working immediately. He cut up the side of Sam's jacket and two shirts to access the wound. Luckily, it wasn't as deep as in had first appeared and after some work Bobby managed to get the bleeding under control.

"Help me get his shirt off," Bobby instructed as he started cutting up the center of Sam's shirts. "We need to see if there's any more damage that needs patching."

Pulling the fabric back offered several discoveries for the two hunters. The least surprising was a collection of fresh bruises forming all over his torso. In addition though, they found a large number of new scars and a teardrop shaped tattoo in the center of his chest. Not stopping for very long to analyze the situation, Bobby cut up both sleeves, revealing his arms, which also contained new scars.

"Holy fuck, Bobby." Dean took Sam's hand that was closest to him and raised it up to examine the wrist. There was a very fresh and ragged half-inch wide band of scarring around the wrist. "I've never seen this kind of wound. What do you think? Maybe a whip or claw?"

"I've seen it before." Bobby's face had lost a little color. He pointed to Sam's other wrist, which bore a matching scar. "Handcuffs. They can cut a person bloody if you try to get out of them bad enough."

Dean closed his eyes and absently squeezed his brother's hand. Sam must have been through something awful for him to voluntarily do so much damage to himself.

"Dean, look at this." At Bobby's words, Dean opened his eyes to see the older hunter staring at the tattoo. Upon closer inspection it was pretty clearly a magical tattoo, like their anti-possession tattoos, but the style was entirely different. "I'm no expert, but that looks like hoodoo. I'll have to check my books to know for sure. Hell, maybe I can decipher some of the pictographs in it."

"Great. So Sammy goes off the grid, gets chained up, tatted by some hoodoo witch doctor, and…." Dean frowned and pointed to what was an unmistakable gunshot wound scar on Sam's right middle torso. Sam had been shot in the arm previously, but it was still unusual for a hunter to get shot on the job. Monsters preferred to use claws and fangs to handguns. "And gets shot…. The kid has had one hell of a year and a half.

"You think the shot was a through and through?" Bobby asked from professional curiosity making Dean shrug. "Help me lift him up. We can at least pull out the shredded clothes while I take a look."

They carefully lifted Sam's upper body off the couch and the ruined clothing.

"Sweet mother in Heaven…." Bobby muttered when he saw Sam's back tattoo. It was massive, covering nearly the entirety of Sam's considerable back and shoulders. The line work was horribly complex and unlike anything Bobby had seen before. When Dean saw it, his mouth hung open slightly.

"So maybe he got more than a little tatted up," Dean observed, then took a picture of the tattoo with his phone before removing the bloody shirts and jacket. He helped Bobby gently lower Sam back down into a comfortable position.

Dean started going through Sam's jacket and jeans pockets looking for any clues as to what he'd been up to. He immediately found Sam's wallet, which contained fifty-eight dollars, a Wisconsin driver's license for a Keith Ness, a few receipts, and a simple silver ring. He picked up the ring and examined it for magical engraving; the way things were shaping up it was probably enchanted or something. He slipped the ring back into the wallet and starting looking through the receipts. Two of the receipts were for restaurants in the last few days, both listed enough food for two people. Other receipts were for gas and some indecipherable purchases at a drugstore. Taken as a whole, they indicated that Sam had recently been traveling with someone in northwest Iowa.

When Dean went to check the Impala's glovebox and trunk for signs of another person he was surprised to find that neither opened for him. The key would fit into the lock just fine, but it wouldn't turn. Upon closer inspection, Dean could see a small set of runes carved into the stainless steel ring around each keyhole. Sam had magically locked them. It occurred to Dean that they had been very lucky the Impala's ignition wasn't similarly locked; otherwise they would have been stuck in a dead car while trying to escape over half a dozen demons.

Dean returned to the living room and sat down in a chair near the couch. Bobby had settled at his desk, already at work researching the tattoos.

"Find anything?" Bobby asked without looking up.

"Receipts look like he was traveling with someone a few days ago and he was using the name Keith Ness. Other than that, I've got squat. I couldn't even get into the trunk or glove box. He's got some sort of spell on the locks. He actually scratched runes or some shit into Baby…." Dean scowled. "He seems to be using a lot of magic."

Bobby looked up from his pile of books. "Huh…. Well, Sam always was a bit more magic-savvy. He's been out on his own for awhile; it would make sense that he'd dabble in the stuff to give himself an advantage. It might not be standard in the hunter handbook, but it ain't exactly unheard of either."

Dean had to admit that they'd used a fair number of spells on hunts, but they'd been used sparingly. Sam had been more into casting the spells, probably because his Latin was better and Dean was always busy standing ready, weapon drawn. It made sense that Sam would play to his strengths, but all that seemed a bit much.

"Yeah. Well, I don't—" Dean was cut off by a buzzing noise.

He and Bobby both looked around for a few seconds before realizing that it was coming from Sam's far-side jeans pocket. Dean felt like an idiot for forgetting to check the remaining pockets after finding Sam's wallet. He rushed over, quickly withdrew the cell phone, hit answer, and held it to his head. He could hear breathing on the other side.

"Hello?" he answered, but the caller hung up. Dean wanted to call them back, but Sam's phone was locked with a PIN. "Dammit! They hung up."

"Wrong number?" Bobby suggested, not believing it for a second.

"The caller ID said K.A. It was probably whoever he was traveling with…. You know any hunters with the initials K.A.?" Dean asked, but Bobby shook his head.

Dean started trying PINs that Sam had used in the past, but none of them worked. He tried birth dates, death dates, familiar addresses, important zip codes. He was locked out of the phone ten times in two hours. On the last attempt, he nearly threw the phone against the wall before placing it down and kicking the chair he had just been sitting on instead.

"For fuck's sake, Sammy! It's like he's trying to make this shit impossible."

Dean was beyond annoyed at the situation and Bobby was getting tired of his huffing. "Of course he is, ya' idjit. It's not like he was expecting you to need to access his stuff. Boy's been off the grid for a while and it looks like he was doin' a damn good job of it."

"You're right." Dean collapsed into a lumpy armchair in frustration. "I just wish I knew what he's been up to. I mean he got shot, and with the tattoos, and handcuffs…. I just want to know he's okay."

"Well, you can ask him when he wakes up. In the meantime, you should probably tell Shola to call off the bloodhounds."

* * *

Dean summoned Shola while Bobby continued researching Sam's tattoos. She wore a brown suit with a matching brown and olive green hijab. Her meatsuit appeared to be of south pacific descent with skin that beautifully complimented the brown and green tones. Dean fleetingly wondered how she chose who to possess and whether demons ever tried to coordinate meatsuits with their clothing. Clearly, she put some level of intention into her appearance.

"What can I do for you Dean?"

"Nothing actually, We found Sam," he told her, then waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "You can call off the search."

"I'm glad we could be of service." She smiled warmly. "Please keep me in mind if you find yourself needing to make a deal in the future."

"What, do you guys get paid on commission or something?" Dean shifted his weight and crossed his arms.

"I'm nowhere near at risk for getting the literal ax, but it always helps to get the big name deals, and since we have this lovely rapport already you might as well work with someone you can trust."

"Oh, I don't trust you." Dean smiled snarkily.

"Well." She shrugged halfheartedly. "Maybe you don't trust my intentions, but I hope that you at least trust my reliability."

"You left me hanging for four weeks!"

"That's all covered under the force majeure clause." She waved her hand as if physically brushing aside his compliant.

"I honestly have no idea what you're saying half the time. Whatever. Now, if we're done..." He gestured for her to exit.

"Actually, I'd like to speak with Robert for a moment if he's around."

Bobby heard his name from the other room and called out an invitation. Dean followed Shola into the study where Bobby was going through tomes on hoodoo and magical pictographs. Shola immediately became distracted looking through the books and started commenting about how Pali magical tattoos were superior to hoodoo tattoos. Dean decided he was done with the conversation and left to check on Sam. Once Dean had left the room, Shola turned to Bobby with a serious demeanor.

"I would like to talk to you about Dean." Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

Bobby glanced at the doorway and considered calling for Dean to come back, but decided to hear her out. "What about him?"

"Has Dean told you about his time in Hell?"

"No," Bobby answered, suddenly having a better appreciation for why she'd waited for Dean to leave. "He said he doesn't remember it."

"Well, he does remember. I saw it while I was searching his memories…. Dean was being groomed for the service of Hell by an archdemon. I know firsthand that that can be an incredibly profound experience," she warned. "His master was the Archdemon Alastair, known for his ruthlessness and manipulation. I think it's fair to assume that Dean was almost certainly changed by the experience, more than he's showing."

Bobby sat up straight in his chair, leaned closer to her, then quietly asked, "What do you mean?"

"Some people learn to love their tormentors, while others fear or hate them. I don't think that Dean would love him, but fear to the point of non-opposition... maybe." Shola glanced to the door where Dean had left the room. Her expression wasn't that of someone expecting to be found out, but rather something closer to concern.

"This is interesting, but I'm not sure I see how this is relevant. With you guys banning his soul from Hell, I don't think Dean is taking a trip downstairs anytime soon."

"Alastair is on Earth." Her expression was very serious. "He has been called up by Lilith to serve as her second in command. For a while we thought that he had been killed by the thing that took Dean, but he was spotted in Wyoming a few weeks ago."

Bobby nodded, beginning to understand that she was warning him to watch out for Dean. "Why do you care so much about what happens to us?"

"You're my assets in the field. You're my responsibility."

"You sound like the spymaster of Hell." Bobby chuckled at the thought.

"The Crossroads," she corrected as a small smile returned to her lips. "And I'm not a spymaster, but I am a liaison for many of our contracts. My specialty is dealings that involve things that are less fungible than souls. It leads to the more interesting cases." She waved her hand around the room indicating their current predicament.

"I'll bet. Thank you, for the warning"

"Good luck, Robert. Maybe I'll see you again."

"Call me Bobby," he invited. "And you should probably count on it considering the messes those boys get into."


	19. The Reunion

Sam woke up to the late afternoon sunlight shining on his face. His head and torso ached with the unmistakable pain of a fight gone wrong, but otherwise he was surprised he wasn't in worse shape. It took him several seconds to realize that he was lying on a couch, and then a bit longer to identify Bobby's living room. He had a moment of dumbfoundedness, trying to figure out how he had gotten there and what was going on.

The last thing he remembered was being attacked by a mob of demons. It didn't make sense for him to be resting in the closest thing he'd had to a childhood home. Sam pulled a blanket off of him, revealing the healing ward on his chest and the scars on his wrists. They confirmed that he hadn't dreamt the last year and a half— His heart started hammering in his chest as panic set in.

He sat up painfully and looked around the room. He had no idea where Ruby was or what had happened after the fight. Digging through his pockets didn't turn up his phone. He clutched his bandaged side, preparing to stand up, when Dean walked into the living room. Sam froze. His eyes widened in shock and a not-inconsiderable amount of fear. If he had been thinking clearer, he would have known that Dean probably wouldn't look like himself as a demon, but Sam still raised his hand trying to keep him away.

Dean stopped, but only because he could see that Sam was freaked out. Sam's face was pure confusion and his hand was held up as if to say 'stay back'. It was an understandable reaction; it wasn't every day that your dead brother walked in on you. After Bobby had taken a swing or two at him upon their reunion, Dean thought maybe the only thing stopping Sam from charging him was Sam's injured state. Though, now that he thought of it Sam wasn't nearly as hurt as they had expected him to be.

"Before you start, I'm not a demon or a monster or anything like that. Bobby already checked me out," Dean told him.

Perfectly timed, Bobby turned the corner into the room, having been attracted by the sound of voices. "Damn, boy, it's good to see you." Bobby didn't have nearly as many social obstacles to get through, like explaining his resurrection, so he stepped forward to give Sam a very gentle hug. They embraced, but Dean noticed that Sam never stopped looking at him. Bobby pulled back from the hug, holding Sam by the shoulders at arm's length to look at him. "Are you cold or having a fit?"

Dean realized that Sam was shaking slightly. He stepped forward to grab the blanket on the couch and hand it to Sam. After a moment's hesitation, Sam accepted the blanket and wrapped it around himself.

"I think a little of both," Sam managed. "Dean…. I…. It's you?"

"Yep. It's me, Sammy." Dean moved in for a hug and Sam awkwardly allowed it. Dean's arms held Sam like that moment was something he had been waiting decades for, because he really had. Sam's hug, though, was still shaking and confused. His fingers clenched Dean's shirt in some desperate attempt to find some stability.

After the hug, Sam returned to sitting on the couch. Dean could see some of his shock wearing off, to be replaced by happiness, but there was something else. Sam fidgeted slightly and seemed on edge. It was like he was forcing himself to hold still, instead of getting up and running away. Dean worried that maybe Sam was more startled by his resurrection than they had anticipated. To Dean's surprise though, Sam's first question had nothing to do with his miraculous return from Hell.

"How long have I been out?" Sam asked.

"Almost a day."

The tiny amount of color Sam had left his face and he gripped his knees to stop his trembling. "Where's my phone? I need to call someone."

Dean raised his eyebrow, but pulled the cell phone from his pocket and returned it. "Last night a K.A. called, but he hung up when I answered. I would have called him back, but your phone was locked."

Sam stood up awkwardly. He was still weak, but he seemed determined to have some privacy as he staggered quickly toward the back of Bobby's house.

"I'll be back in a minute," Sam said while he walked out of the room without giving any further explanation.

* * *

Sam rushed into Bobby's study, closing the door behind him, and leaned against the wall. It had been emotionally exhausting seeing Dean again. He was thrilled that his brother was alive, but it didn't make sense. And as much as he wanted to know what had happened with him, he needed to know that Ruby and the baby were alright. He called Ruby's cell and she picked up on the second ring.

"It's me. Are you okay?" Sam asked frantically. He heard a sigh of relief.

"I'm fine," Ruby answered, though her voice was stressed. He felt some of the tension leave his body as he slumped down along the wall a few inches. If anything had happened to her or the baby while he was gone, he wasn't sure what he would have done. "What happened to you? I tried calling, but some guy answered your phone. Where are you?"

"I was jumped by a group of demons and knocked out, but Bobby and Dean showed up to pull my ass out of the fire."

"Dean's dead." Her voice was uncertain and cautious.

"Turns out he hasn't been for awhile. I don't know how though."

There was a long pause from Ruby's end before she spoke. "With Dean back, are you gonna…. I mean, this changes things."

"What?" Sam didn't understand what she was trying to say.

"Are you gonna go back to hunting?"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. She was asking if he was going to leave her and the baby to go off with Dean. He felt like an idiot for not thinking about how Ruby would take the news of Dean's return. It made sense that she would see Dean as competition for his attention. For the last year and a half she had been his constant companion, but for most of Sam's life before that Dean had filled that role.

He was a little pained by the idea that Ruby thought he might just abandon them to go back to hunting. It wasn't that he was offended, but maybe she thought he wasn't as committed as he was. Sam loved Dean and wished he could find a way to make things work between them, but he wasn't going to just skip out on Ruby and the kid. And he wasn't going to get back into hunting. He was done with looking for danger. He was done with running all over the country. He was done with the idea of hunting being a noble profession. He was even done with the word 'monster.'

"No. This doesn't change things between us…. I'll just tell him…. I'm going to have to tell them I'm done hunting anyway, so this should probably be dealt with at the same time…. I just need to figure out how to tell them." It was one thing to quit hunting with the vague explanation of exhaustion and new responsibilities. It was another thing to figure out a way of keeping Dean and Bobby from investigating the mother of his child enough to reveal that she was a demon. That whole explanation needed to be planned in advance; trying to improvise that sort of thing could quickly turn into a disaster. "Maybe you could pretend to be human?"

"That's still not gonna explain the whole plan to hide out with a coven."

"You're a witch." It was equal parts suggestion and statement.

"I'm sure that's gonna go over real well." Sam and Ruby both had had several opportunities to hear Dean complain about how much he hated witches. Unfortunately, the need to be protected from Lilith came before Dean's feelings.

"We'll figure something out. Anyway, they've already seen my wards, so I'm sure they know I've been dealing with witches."

"Yeah, let me know how that conversation goes." She huffed slightly when she spoke and Sam could tell she rolled her eyes.

"Where are you? I'll come as soon as I can sneak away." He wanted to see her to make sure she was alright. She said she was fine, but he knew he wouldn't feel right until he saw her.

"I changed rooms at the same motel; room 17 on the end," she replied. "I didn't want your alias on the registration, but I thought I'd keep an eye out in case you or a hunter came to the old room."

"Any demon activity in the area?" He cracked the door make sure Bobby and Dean were not secretly listening, then checked the window compulsively.

"There have been a few groups moving around the neighborhood. I warded the doors and windows of the room. It's not as good as salt, but it'll let me get out if I need to."

"How's…." He turned back to the door, which he didn't remember closing, then lowered his voice in spite of the apparent privacy. "How's the baby?"

"Still kicking and royally pissed. It's been driving me crazy the last day, but not nearly as much as you."

He chuckled briefly at the idea of the baby kicking Ruby relentlessly, but he felt a little choked up at not being there. "I'm sorry. I just woke up a few minutes ago."

"I know if you could've you'd have called sooner. But not knowing was just…."

The thought that she had been alone without word from him for almost a whole day made his heart feel tight. He decided that when he saw her next he would hold her and kiss her tenderly. He didn't care if she teased him for it. Though, thinking about it, she hadn't teased him for being affectionate in the last few weeks.

"I'll be there as soon as I can, promise."

"Keep your phone on you, and be prepared to buy my forgiveness." Her tone had become playfully commanding, which made him smile.

"What kind of fries do you want?"

"All of them."

"I'll see what I can do."

Sam hung up and turned to face the door leading back to the rest of Bobby's house. He was not prepared for the situation. His instincts told him to sneak out the side door and haul ass back to Ruby, avoiding any awkward conversations. But they had been looking for him for who-knew-how-long and he finally had his brother back. He couldn't just run away from Dean because he was scared. Anyway, Dean would kill him if he took the Impala.

* * *

Sam walked back into the living room to find Bobby and Dean quietly arguing about who would ask him something. They immediately stopped when he entered, having clearly been caught red-handed. Bobby tried to act casual, but Dean decided to jump right into the interrogation.

"So, who's K.A.?" Dean asked.

Having foreseen that question, Sam already knew that he would try to stick as close to the party line as possible. "Kathy. She's a civilian. She was being chased by some demons. I was protecting her. I was out investigating some omens when I got jumped."

"Is she okay?" Bobby sounded concerned.

"Yeah, she's holed up nicely."

"She could come here," Bobby offered and Sam kicked himself for not thinking of Bobby's helpful nature as being a factor.

"No, she's about to meet up with some friends who'll get her out of the area fast. It's all done," Sam improvised, hoping that that didn't come off as stupid as it sounded to his ears.

"Okay…." Bobby and Dean both looked at him a little suspiciously, so Sam decided to change the subject away from 'Kathy'.

"So, I get the feeling there's something else that neither of you want to ask me?"

"What the hell happened to you? I mean the tattoos, scar-cuffs, putting magic on Baby?" Dean held up his hand slightly while asking and counted off the points on his fingers.

Sam sat down on the couch. Tiptoeing around Ruby and the baby was going to take some effort, but it was the kind of thing he could gloss over and summarize better than talking details of Ruby's cover.

"After you died and I left." Sam glanced at Bobby apologetically. "I tried making deals with Crossroads demons, but they wouldn't deal. So I decided to get some revenge and tried hunting down Lilith."

"You, hunting down Lilith, alone. Real smart Sammy." Dean was less than thrilled.

"I found out in New Harmony that her powers don't work on me. That's how I survived. So I figured with Ruby's knife I could take her in a fight."

"If you could even get to her. The whole country has been swarming with demons the last year or so." Bobby added.

Sam could see the gears turning in the old hunter's head. Bobby was the one person that he could always count on to be if not one step ahead of him, then to be at most only one step behind him.

"I almost got her once, but it's been hard. Lilith sends demons after me pretty frequently, trying to find me before I find her. But it hasn't been so bad as long as I move every few days."

"That's why you've been trying so hard to stay off the radar?"

"Yeah." Sam looked down at his hands, which he rubbed together self-consciously.

"So what's with the tattoos?" Dean asked pointedly.

"Well, about a year ago I stopped an attack on a woman, but got shot." He pulled open the blanket he had wrapped around him and pointed to the scar over his liver. "Turned out that she was a witch. She patched me up and put this healing ward on my chest."

"Healing ward?" Bobby asked.

"It doesn't work miracles or anything, just speeds up healing a little and helps prevent wounds from getting infected. It's a way for witches to convert normal magic into healing magic." Sam could have sworn he saw Dean's lips thin when he said 'normal magic'.

"Hoodoo?" Bobby clarified.

"Yeah." Sam knew Bobby had a lot of experience with magic lore, which made Sam nervous. There was a chance that Bobby would understand just how impressive and unusual the ward on his back was. "When I told her about Lilith's minions looking for me, she took me to another witch that tattooed my back so that I'd be harder to track."

"You just let some witches put who-knows-what on you?" Dean was his protective big brother, but he was also a hunter with a strong dislike of witches.

"She saved my life," Sam pointed out. "They weren't about to turn around and kill me."

"'They' wouldn't happen to be a coven?" Bobby asked, undoubtedly curious about the nature of the ward.

Sam was getting a bit offended. He knew that Bobby wasn't trying to start anything, but Dean was quietly getting worked up by the mention of witches, like a shark struggling to pretend there wasn't blood in the water. In the past Sam might have lied in an attempt to appease Dean, but he was standing firm against the anti-witch prejudices. He would have to deal with it sooner or later if he was going to let Dean know where he was planning on going once the baby was born.

"Yes, they were." He didn't add 'Do you have a problem with that?' but did turn to look Dean in the eyes.

"You were at a coven. Where?" Dean asked curtly.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm gonna send them a fucking fruit basket. You know." Sam knew, but he'd wanted Dean to say it because deep down he refused to believe that Dean could have no qualms with killing the people that had saved Sam's life. That was why Dean wasn't just coming out and saying it. He wasn't in the clear right and he knew it. He might even feel guilty. "They're witches. They rock the bad mojo and make deals with demons."

"Look who's talking," Sam jabbed.

"I dealt with a demon to save your life," Dean shot right back at him.

"Yeah, and they used their demon deal powers to save my life. The only difference is that you're still dealing."

Dean stopped, mouth slightly open. That had been a direct strike to the nerve. He was taken aback by being called out, but that was quickly overcome by simple confusion. He had no idea how Sam could have known about Shola. He had been unconscious earlier when Dean had summoned her to let her know that Sam had been found, and neither he nor Bobby had mentioned any sort of deal to find Sam.

"How'd you know?"

The truth was that Sam could faintly sense her and he hadn't even been fully aware of his knowledge until he'd said it. It was a strange feeling, almost the way a familiar scent could trigger old memories. He could tell she was female and could almost imagine the way she had moved around the room, stopping briefly to lean against Bobby's desk, probably to look over some books. Sensing a demon after they had left was a new manifestation of his powers and he wondered if sensing her was made easier because she was powerful.

"I saw some sulfur," he lied, apparently satisfying Dean, who would have had to reach pretty far afield to come up with an alternate explanation.

"That was different." Dean turned his attention back to defending himself. "She was just a means to find you, but now she's gone. Those witches are still out there—"

"She's gone, back to Hell where she operates her soul-stealing business. Meanwhile, the coven isn't hurting any—"

"You can't play fast and loose with evil." Dean was starting to raise his voice. "Just because I fucked up doesn't mean that you should be fine doing the same."

"But I—"

"Dammit, Sammy! You're not going to Hell!"

Bobby and Sam just stared at Dean, who hadn't realized that he was shaking. His skin felt flush and unshed tears pooled in his eyes before being suppressed. The thought of Sam experiencing even a moment of Hell's torment was agonizing to Dean…. It was its own form of torture when Dean had been in Hell. Alastair would tell him that Sam would kill himself or make a deal to save him. That Sam would find his way down to the pit, destined for the rack. Alastair had plans for Sam: a whole host of rare pain merely because it was the fastest and most complete way to destroy Dean. He refused to let his little brother suffer that. He refused to let him go down that slippery slope.

"You didn't sell your soul again, did you?" Sam had stopped being defensive and was visibly concerned by Dean's quick turn.

"No!" Dean was a little offended, but mostly was trying to restore his usual carefree air.

"They wouldn't take it," Bobby interjected.

"Hell wouldn't take your soul…. Spoiled goods?" Sam smirked, breaking the tension slightly.

"Ha ha, smart ass." Dean smiled sourly, but was grateful for Sam letting him off the emotional hook. "Some big and powerful pulled my ass from the fire. It killed a bunch of demons in the process and they don't want to risk a return visit until they have things under control."

"You don't know how you got out?" Sam was surprised, but when he thought about it, short of another deal he couldn't imagine a way of Dean getting out.

"I don't remember it. Honestly, I thought you made a deal until Shola, the demon, told me it was something else."

"So if you didn't trade your soul, what'd you give?" Sam asked. The idea of a demon trading for something other than a soul was intriguing. Ruby had once told Sam that souls were the coin of the realm in Hell, but apparently there were other things of value as well.

"My memory of what happened and a peek at my soul," Dean confessed. "They're trying to figure out what did it."

"You gave Hell intel on the thing that might be able to kill demons en masse?"

Dean was visibly conflicted on the subject. "It wasn't that much information really. They still have no clue what they're dealing with."

Dean excused his aid to the Crossroads by telling himself that he had gotten the better end of the deal, but he still felt a bit sick. He wanted to stop whatever it was from harming humans, but the idea of something wiping out hundreds of demons made him feel hopeful for once. As much as he didn't entirely hate Shola, he would be delighted if something tore Hell apart. After ninety years of torture, he just wished that he could watch.

* * *

Bobby's phone rang, causing him to be pulled away on hunter network business, which interrupted the reunion. Taking advantage of the pause and wanting to avoid dealing with Dean one-on-one so soon, Sam excused himself to go take a shower. Dean agreed that Sam would probably feel better after cleaning off some of the small amount of dried blood still on his torso.

Sam fetched a new shirt from the Impala and took a quick shower. He still had bruising on his chest and left cheekbone, but it only hurt when touched. The stab wound was healing nicely and he suspected that he could take the stitches out in only a day or so. He felt a strange mixture of feeling almost at home again, but desperately wanting to run out the door to see Ruby. It made sense for him to wait until after things had quieted down for the night to sneak back to her. They needed some time to figure out their story and the last thing he needed was Dean asking to tag along on a run into town.

After getting dressed, Sam was brushing his hair when his phone rang. The caller ID showed it was Ruby, so he picked up immediately. He looked down the hall, to see if Dean or Bobby were within earshot, but it ended up not mattering. Sam didn't have a chance to say anything. He could hear rustling. Ruby cursed loudly and then said something in Latin. There was a strange hissing sound followed by a man screaming, then the call went dead. Sam was already running out of Bobby's house, and hopping into the Impala before he let go of the phone.

Dean was looking out the kitchen window sipping a beer when he saw Sam burst out of the side door. The look on Sam's face was a level of fear that Dean hadn't seen since New Harmony. Sam had been pinned to the wall, helpless to save Dean from being shredded by hellhounds. He had no idea what was going on but Dean knew that whatever had spooked Sam must be dire. Dean grabbed the keys to the Capri and raced to keep up with his brother.

It was inevitable that Sam would lose Dean. Dean didn't know where they were headed, though he wasn't surprised when Sam turned toward Sioux Falls. Worse was that the Capri couldn't keep up with the Impala, especially the way Sam was driving. Dean was by far the more skilled driver, but Sam made up what he lacked in experience with desperation. Dean lost track of Sam near the same neighborhood where they had for him the night before. Figuring that Sam was returning to some familiar location, Dean decided to patrol the streets.

After a few minutes, he was certain that he had found where Sam had been headed. The Impala was parked hastily across two spots in a cheap motel's parking lot. He could guess where Sam had been staying. The last room on the left side of the building had its door kicked it and smoke billowed slowly from it. Dean parked, grabbed his pistol, then cautiously peeked inside the room.

It looked like a small bomb had gone off inside. One of the beds was on fire, scorch marks covered the ceiling, and there was a smoldering corpse laying on the floor. The walls of the room had large magical symbols drawn onto them in marker. A flimsy table had collapsed, probably from the explosion, spilling a few bottles and random objects onto the floor. While examining the floor Dean spotted several drops of blood that seemed to form a sparse trail out the door.

The street had been plowed clear since the snowstorm of last night, but part of the curb still had piles of snow. Dean could see where the blood trail crashed through the pile of snow and proceeded across the street. Following the trail down an alley, Dean could hear yelling. The sounds were coming from a rundown building that had probably been an apartment building in a previous life. A flicker of movement in an upstairs window told him that there was a fight up there, but Dean didn't make it to the building. It was dark in the alley, but he saw a woman stagger out of an exit about twenty feet away. She was holding a knife that was dripping dark liquid. In spite of the poor lighting Dean could see that her eyes were black.


	20. Fight or Flight

Ruby sat near the window of the motel room watching the clock. It had been an hour since Sam had left to clear a path through the demons. He had said that he would be back by a half hour ago. Under normal circumstances she would be pacing the room, but she was too sore to do it justice so she anxiously tapped her foot instead. She wanted to go out after him, but hesitated.

As much as she hated to admit it, at that point she was more of a liability in a fight than an asset. The obvious pregnancy made her a target for anyone looking to cause trouble and her mobility was severely impaired. She could still use magic, but casting spells usually required the kind of attention that left one vulnerable to attacks. Going out alone with groups of demons roaming the streets would be asking for trouble.

Not to mention the fact that Sam had taken the car to who-knew-how-far away. She could try hotwiring a car, but that wasn't something she was super proficient in. Most of time that she had wanted to travel alone before she would just teleport, but she hadn't attempted it while pregnant. The magical mechanics and strain that teleporting put on a meatsuit were just the sort of thing she had been trying to avoid exposing the baby to. So, for the moment she was limited to human forms of transportation and with no idea how to hotwire a car, her options were further reduced.

She decided to call Sam's phone, hoping that it wasn't going to loudly reveal his location or cause some other problem. On the sixth ring the call was answered by someone who wasn't Sam. Ruby's heart started pounding as she panicked and hastily hung up.

She thought back to Sam getting grabbed by those hunters a little over a month earlier. It had been terrifying then and the current situation was quickly resembling that horrible day. Last time, the hunters had come for her when she had fortunately stepped out of the room for a few minutes. She decided to change locations, but still be able to watch that room should anyone come looking. But what should she do after that?

Sam wanted the baby to be safe above all other priorities. He had made that clear to her after the warehouse incident. As much as he was grateful for the rescue, later he had begged her not put him before the baby. She had agreed, but mostly to comfort him in a time of distress. She hadn't thought it through at all and now she was faced with the very real implications of that still-unsettled debate.

Ruby cared about the baby, far more than she had thought she would, but Sam was the only person that she considered herself committed to. It seemed likely that once the baby was born she would feel closer to it, but for the moment she didn't have an intense bond with it the way Sam did. He would willingly die to protect the baby and possibly even just Ruby, but at the moment she only really would make that sacrifice for Sam.

The real question was whether she should attempt to locate and save Sam or attempt to honor his wishes by making the baby's safety her top priority. In the past she could definitely see herself blowing off Sam's feelings as childish or dumb, but now she wasn't so sure. She might disagree with his priorities, but she had gained a lot of respect for him over the previous eighteen months. But did respecting him mean letting him die if that's what he would have wanted? Would she risk her own life to protect the baby that he cared about more than anything, or if push came to shove would she smoke out to save herself?

She felt like she might throw up. It was all too much to think about and the flood of hormones in her system certainly weren't helping her. So she decided to tackle something more approachable, but almost certainly helpful: preparing for a fight. One way or another she was likely going to have to search for Sam, rescue Sam, or attempt to flee. All of those scenarios involved the risk of a fight; even staying in a motel room was potentially dangerous with the demons roaming the neighborhood. If they were still searching for Sam, then they would likely come through the area. She could hide inside with the curtains closed, but that wouldn't necessarily help. If the demons were being thorough enough as to check every room, then they could just smoke or break into her room and find an already-possessed body—and not just that, but a pregnant already-possessed body.

If she was spotted by demons while pregnant it would raise a major red flag. A demon would have to be both an extreme sadist and a masochist in order to voluntarily be in such a pregnant meatsuit. It would look strange and probably warrant further investigation, especially with her being found so close to Sam, an oddity unto himself. And if she was spotted by a demon, she would have no good way to prevent it from fleeing to tell others, aside from a binding potion, like the corrosive grenades, but those would take time to prepare.

She knew that there are ways to kill demons without her knife, the Colt, or Sam, but they were incredibly impractical when outnumbered and often took a long time. With a little preparation, she could probably kill one demon, but she couldn't count on killing more than that if they came as a group. Instead it made sense to bind the demons and then attempt to damage their meatsuits beyond function. Ideally, she could knock off a leg or something. In a perfect world she could construct a bomb, but she didn't have the materials to create a blast strong enough to really take off limbs. Regardless, immobilizing demons wouldn't be a long term solution, but it would enable her to get past the ones in the immediate area... and then what?

She had a while longer before the baby was due, so it wasn't quite like she could just go drop it off at the coven and then pop back to search for Sam. By the time she got back, if he hadn't yet contacted her it would mean he was probably dead. If she was going to go after him the first twenty-four hours would be the most critical and she needed to prepare for things to go sour fast.

Ruby decided that the first thing to do was establish a safe place for her to work. She switched motel rooms and only put the room under her alias. Once she had relocated to the new room, Ruby began warding the door and windows. Then she warded the air vents to prevent any demonic smoke from getting through. It wouldn't be an absolute form of protection, but it would make it harder for an intruder to get in. She positioned the curtains so that she could sit at the table and watch their old room without being seen from the parking lot or street, then she got to work.

The first major bit of witchcraft she performed was a demon locator map spell. Unfortunately, she didn't have several hours to kill on it so she cut a few corners to speed up the casting time and reduce the amount of energy it required from her. The resulting map of the greater Sioux Falls area didn't show individual demons, but there were hazy spots indicating some demonic presence. It would have to do. She anticipated having to use a lot of magical energy if she was going to properly defend herself in a fight so she started drawing on her connection to the coven to give her more power.

She was mixing the binding potions when the baby woke up. It had surprised her to discover that the baby had its own sleep cycle. At first she found it interesting, but sitting at the motel table trying to construct an arsenal she found it incredibly distracting. It seemed like every few seconds she would feel a kick or jab, sometimes strong enough to make her stop what she was working on and hold her belly. She had previously talked to the baby, but it was always as a joke and was for Sam's amusement. Now though, she was alone and nearing her breaking point.

"Listen, if you can just leave me alone for a few hours—I'm going to try to save our asses and maybe even find your dad. So please just give me a fucking break."

The kicking didn't slow down, but Ruby wasn't really angry. It made some small amount of sense that the baby might be agitated. She was legitimately scared about Sam and it was taking a lot of willpower on her part not to freak out. There must have been a huge amount of adrenaline and other chemicals pumping through her system. She wanted to entirely blame her state on hormones, but suspected that part of the issue was some lingering trauma from the whole warehouse incident. Sam had needed her to be strong and comforting because of the emotional number it had done on him, but the truth was that it had terrified her in a way she hadn't known in decades, or maybe centuries. Aside from Sam, she could barely remember the last time she had feared for the life of someone that much.

She eyed her cell phone and thought about calling again, but she thought back the warehouse. She couldn't quite bring herself to move. Last time she had been ready, having accidentally gained some advantage over the hunters, but she did not feel ready now. Her hands patted her belly while she rocked slightly in the chair. She still hadn't yet decided to call…. But she needed to have some way of defending herself no matter what. The kid kept kicking her, but she went back to work.

While the binding potions were setting, Ruby began working on more offensive grenades and other tools. She had a good knife and a shotgun with salt shells, but not much else for weapons. While the shotgun could come in handy, the knife would obviously be a tool of last resort since it would require her to use melee combat.

She also started working on a locator spell for Sam. It was a long shot to try working through a loophole in the protective warding, but she figured it was worth an attempt. She decided to try locating the fake wedding ring that Sam occasionally wore. When it wasn't on his hand, he would always keep it in his wallet or the glovebox of the Impala. Better yet was the fact that she had the matching ring, which would help narrow the search. She could start the spell and let it run while she continued working. Once the spell was completed she could cross check that against the demon locator map to find out how to arm herself in a rescue attempt. She realized that she was decided. She had sworn to protect him, no matter what.

A few minutes later, her phone began ringing. She saw it was Sam's cell and answered right away. She held her breath wondering if it would be the same person who had answered early. When she heard Sam's voice she could breathe again and smiled weakly. The relief she felt was overwhelming, sending tingles and fatigue throughout her nervous system. In that moment she wanted nothing more than have Sam back, sleeping next to her, like they had been before the demons had drawn him away.

But that wasn't going to happen for a while... if at all. Dean was back. The one person in the world that Sam had been dangerously codependent with was back in his life. Ruby bit her lip at the news and nervously rubbed her belly, which continued to pulse with tiny kicks. She knew Sam was a good man with a strong sense of duty, especially to his family, but Dean had been family longer. It didn't seem like Sam to just take off, leaving her and the kid, in order to return to his old life, but she knew it would be asking a lot of Sam for him to put anything before his big brother.

It was a huge relief when Sam assured her that he wasn't going to rejoin Dean, but they still had to figure out how to explain Sam's departure. Ruby personally couldn't care less about hurting Dean's feelings. He had treated her like shit for the year leading up to his death; she couldn't even count all the times he had called her a bitch…. But Sam still cared about him and she didn't want to burn bridges that didn't even belong to her. So they would find a way to make things work, even though she had a lot more doubts about it than Sam did.

By the end of the call she felt considerably better. Sam was safe and would be returning soon. Ruby placed her small arsenal into a duffel, set a demon alarm with a radius of 100 feet, and then crawled into bed without even bothering to undress. The baby was still too active to let her sleep properly, but it would be good to rest her body at the very least.

* * *

After an hour or so, the proximity alarm went off. Ruby got out of bed and checked the window. She saw a group of half a dozen demons crossing the parking lot and fanning out to check rooms. Even if she could instantaneously tell Sam what was going on, he was still at least ten minutes away. She would have to be prepared to defend herself so she readied a few of the grenades that needed time to warm up, then grabbed her phone to call Sam.

Ruby had barely picked up the phone when she heard someone try the motel room door. The handle jiggled, then the demon tried slamming into it. The warding around the door was designed to reinforce the door and injure anyone attempting to force their way inside. The demon that had hit the door was probably writhing on the ground, but that was almost more harmful than helpful since it was undoubtedly drawing the attention of the other demons. The warding would have been more effective against a lone hunter or fewer demons, but with five able-bodied demons converging on the motel room it wouldn't be good for much longer.

She slung the small duffel containing her weapons over her shoulder and backed towards the bathroom while dialing Sam. On the first ring, one of the stronger demons used telekinesis to knock the door in. Ruby fumbled the phone and cursed while drawing a grenade potion as two demons rushed into the room. She said an activation keyword for the grenade, threw the potion into the center of the room, then quickly ducked back into the bathroom. The glass bottle broke on floor creating a scorching blast, followed by a scream and the hissing of burning flesh.

Ruby looked back into the room. Her phone had been dropped and was fried in the blast. One of the demon's meatsuit was burning on the floor while it slowly smoked out, possibly injured. The other had retreated out of the room, but was probably just outside the motel room door with the others. She grabbed a binding grenade and threw it just pass the doorway, splashing the group of demons. As soon as the grenade hit she started running—as best she could—towards the door. The demons had recoiled at the sight of another grenade, allowing her a few seconds to rush between them. One of the demons had the presence of mind to swing a knife at her, but it had only cut her arm, spilling a little blood.

She had managed to get forty feet ahead of them before they had realized that the binding potion wasn't doing any damage to them. Despite her head start, they caught up to her quickly because of her physical state. When they were within ten feet, she ducked down slight and held a charm a above her head, roughly four feet off the ground. She said a keyword and a shockwave spread out from the charm parallel to the ground. The shockwave hit the demons in the chest, knocking them backward at least thirty feet and breaking some nearby windows. Ruby stood back up and continued running for a nearby-abandoned building.

She rushed inside the building, activating and gently placing another scorching grenade behind the door, then ran down a hall. It took the a little while for the demons to figure out which building she had entered, but she hadn't been able to find a backdoor or any barless windows like she had been hoping. Instead, she would have to work her way back through part of the building to avoid being cornered. The grenade she had left at the door exploded, telling her that the demons would be entering the building shortly.

Ruby climbed a set of stairs to the second floor. She checked out a window on the back side of the building for a fire escape, but didn't see one. At that point the demons were searching the building and she just hoped that they had spread out, allowing her to take them one at a time. She poured a small vial of liquid over the blade of her knife and whispered a short incantation as she heard a set of footsteps coming down the hallway. She pressed herself against the wall next to the door to the room she was in and waited.

A male demon entered the room and walked passed her. She leapt forward covering his mouth with one hand and slitting his throat with the other. With his throat slit the demon was unable to call for help, but he thrashed around louder than she would have liked and elbowed her in the face. Ruby shook off the hit and lunged at the demon while he was still turning to face her. She rapidly stabbed him in the chest seven times, hoping to pierce the heart at least three times before the demon flickered and died.

She had used up the one demon kill that she had been able to arrange on such short notice. The coating she had put on the knife was only good for a single kill, but in such close quarters it offered a much stealthier alternative to the shotgun. Until the numbers were more in her favor she decided to avoid using the noisy firearm if possible.

Ruby headed in the direction that the demon had come from hoping that, all things being equal, there would be one fewer demon in her path to the exit. She had made it halfway back to the stairs when she heard another demon ahead. Ducking into a room that looked like a stripped bathroom, Ruby saw a pile of rusted metal fixtures. She touched one with the tip of her finger and it burnt like iron. Ruby placed the duffel on the floor, then pulled her sleeves down to cover her hands.

When the demon came into the room she swung the long iron towel bar as hard as she could into his throat, crushing his larynx with a sizzling pop. On instinct he reached up to grab at the rod, but when he touched it his hands hissed and he choked on a scream. Through sheer force of will he held onto the metal and jerked it out of Ruby's hands. He swung wildly at her, once connecting with her left shoulder. She stumbled forward and to the right, but managed to regain her footing and used the newly closed distance to her advantage.

Swinging the knife up she cut across the interior of his right wrist, severing the tendons that controlled that hand. His sudden loss of dexterity distracted the demon long enough for Ruby to slice downward, severing the same tendons on his left hands. Unable to yell or use his hands for much of anything, the demon lunged at her. She dodged for the most part, but lost her balance and fell down behind him. Ruby scrambled to sit on top of him and then started using the knife to cut the tendons on the back of his knees and along the outside of his shoulders, effectively pinning him to the floor on his stomach.

She could hear noises coming from the far end of the second floor, but she was not sticking around to find out what was going on. Over the course of a few minutes she had taken several good hits and felt like she might just collapse from a strong breeze. She nearly fell on the stairs, but made it to the exit without running into any more demons.

She staggered out the door and saw a man about twenty feet from her. Stepping forward she recognized Dean. He looked her over with confusion and disgust, then Ruby remembered what she must look like. Dean wouldn't recognize her because she had changed meatsuits since the last time they had seen each other. To him she was just some pregnant or fat woman, covered in blood, holding a knife... and in the frenzy of combat she had forgotten to keep her eyes from turning black. She dropped the knife and raised her hands.

"Wait—"

But Dean started reciting the exorcism incantation.

* * *

Sam got to the motel in only six minutes. He was beyond panicked. His fight-or-flight response had been triggered and he had gone way past the fight-end of the barometer. Every movement was rapid, and he had lost his ability to be delicate. If he had been thinking a little clearer, he might have noticed the occasional obstacle on the road being pushed out of his way.

He could barely think when he saw the state of the motel room. At a glance he knew that the corpse wasn't Ruby, but the burn marks throughout the room were absolutely her style. She had put up a fight and likely made a run for it.

It took him no time to find the blood trail and instinctively knew it was hers. Sprinting along its path he quickly sensed the presence of seven demons in a nearby building; one of them was Ruby. Sam charged straight in the front door without assessing the situation at all. He ran down the left hallway, using his powers to grab and kill a demon as almost an afterthought. The majority of activity was upstairs, but it took him a minute to find a staircase.

Once he had gotten upstairs, Sam killed another demon and then moved on, searching for Ruby. He could sense that she was on the far end of the same floor. As he was crossing the second floor he ran into a third demon, which was stronger than the other, but it only slowed him down slightly. He passed a room that contained a body that had been stabbed in the chest multiple times. The sight made him feel a little sick and uncomfortable, but he moved on without a second thought. Another room held a demon that was wriggling on the floor with its tendons slit. It surprised Sam that the demon hadn't just smoked out from its incapacitated meatsuit until he realized that it seemed to have been tagged with a liquid reminiscent of the binding corrosive grenade. By the time he got done with the demon, Ruby had descended to the bottom floor and was rushing for the exit.

Sam ran for the stairs, then glanced out a window on the staircase's landing. He saw Dean approaching and Ruby exiting the building. Sam's heart was pounding at that horrible culmination of his fears. Ruby dropped the knife she was holding, but it looked like Dean was starting an exorcism. She fell down to her hands and knees, then started gasping trying to fight being forced from the body. All of Sam's fear, tension, and power had hit his limit.

Dean looked like he had been hit by an invisible truck. He flew several feet and fell to the ground, unconscious. As soon as Dean had been knocked out, Ruby finished collapsing to the ground. Sam stood frozen in complete shock for a moment. Being brothers, Sam and Dean had hit each other plenty of times, but that was something else entirely. He had unintentionally knocked Dean completely out—or maybe worse—with his powers. It was undeniable that he had been getting more powerful lately, but power wasn't any good if he couldn't control it. Yes, he had wanted to stop Dean, but there were gentler ways of going about it. He was upset, but he had never meant to hurt his brother. He would have to try to calm down, focus himself, and get them to safety. Once things were more stable he could try to figure out what was going on with him.

Sam exited the building and went straight to Ruby. She was barely awake, curled up on her side with her arms wrapped protectively around her belly. Her eyes didn't quite follow his movement, which was disconcerting. He quickly looked her over for serious injuries, found nothing obvious, then glanced at Dean. Sam was thankful to see that Dean was breathing and in a position that didn't necessarily mean broken bones.

Sam scooped up Ruby and then walked over to Dean. He needed to get them both out of there before more demons arrived. Two were unaccounted for and had likely gotten away while he was distracted by the attempted exorcism.

Unfortunately, he couldn't carry both Dean and Ruby at once. Sam decided to get Ruby to the Impala first, then he could come back for Dean. But as Sam took a step or two away from Dean, he could have sworn that he felt a strange tugging sensation in his mind. He realized that he had unconsciously established a bit of a telekinetic grip on his brother. Sure enough, when Sam tried to pull him along, Dean dragged behind him. It was the first time that Sam actually felt in control of his telekinesis rather than it just bursting out. Sam focused a little harder on picking his brother's body up off the ground so that he wouldn't suffer any road rash. Using his telekinesis caused a substantial headache, but saved precious minutes.

As he was finishing loading Ruby and Dean into the Impala, Sam turned to see that a new group of demons had arrived on the scene. Several of the demons attempted to chase after him, but they were far enough away that he was able to finish getting in the Impala and take off without any further trouble.

Driving away, he had a weird realization as he replayed the scene in his head. A few of the newly arrived demons didn't run to attack him like the others. They just stood there watching him, talking to each other. It was eerie the way they had looked at him. One had even put her hand to her mouth in surprise. Sam didn't know what to make of it, but there wasn't time enough to wonder. He had to get Ruby and Dean back to the safety of Bobby's house and his mind was too wracked trying to figure out how he was going to explain the situation.


	21. We Have an Announcement

Dean woke up with a headache and a strange dizzy-falling sensation that made him nauseous, indicating that he probably had a concussion. Lying on his side in the back of what appeared to be the Impala as it sped along a bumpy road was not helping. The last thing he remembered was exorcising a woman in an alleyway, then being hit hard by something he hadn't seen coming. Sam must have found and saved him. Dean tried to talk, but he was still too groggy from being knocked out. He instead settled for trying to regain his motor skills and wits, but mostly spent the drive failing to exert any strength with his arms.

By the time that he was starting to feel well enough to try sitting upright, the car had come to a halt. He heard Sam rushing out the driver's door. Dean expected his little brother to try to assist him, but instead Sam was opening up the front passenger side door and picked up a small woman that Dean hadn't realized was riding shotgun. It was the woman who had been possessed in the alleyway. Thinking about it, Dean could understand Sam wanting to make sure that she got some help—she had looked pregnant—but for some strange reason Sam had taken her to Bobby's instead of a hospital.

Without saying a word to Dean, Sam turned, then rushed to get the woman inside Bobby's house. Dean hurried after him, a little less sure-footed than usual. Sam had yelled for Bobby to open up before he ran in the door past the confused-looking Bobby. He took the woman straight up the stairs without explanation. Dean's head was still spinning slightly from being knocked out so he lagged behind Sam by several long strides. As Dean reached the doorway Bobby touched his arm, stopping him briefly. Dean looked at Bobby, who eyed the stairs.

"Who's the woman?"

"Hell if I know," Dean muttered as he started toward the stair and Bobby followed. "She was possessed. I got knocked out. Sam grabbed us both."

Dean found Sam and the woman in one of the second-floor spare bedrooms. Sam had laid her down on the bed and was kneeling on the floor next to her. He was carefully looking her over for injuries. Her palms and knees were scraped up, she had a cut on her upper right shoulder, and a bruise on her cheek, but that was all that Dean could see in the way of injuries. She seemed fatigued or disoriented, head slumped to the side with her eyes only partially open. What was most striking about her appearance was just how pregnant she actually looked. Earlier Dean had seen her from a distance in dim lighting. She had looked large and probably pregnant then, but up close and in good lighting there was no doubt about it.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. The last thing they needed was to have some ex-meatsuit go into labor. They weren't equipped to deal with that situation. He glanced at Bobby who also seemed to be nervous about her being there. Dean stepped forward, clearing his throat a bit to get Sam's attention. Sam had been asking her questions to test her awareness, but stopped at the sound of the pointed cough. He turned his body towards Dean slightly, but didn't look up to meet his brother's eyes.

"Hey, Sammy…. Uh... I know that she got banged up a bit, but she should go to a hospital. We can't handle this sort of thing and with the demon out, we're done." Dean was trying to use a reassuring tone because Sam's posture looked like he was upset. He couldn't tell whether Sam was angry, sad, scared, or some combination, but something was definitely off. Dean rubbed the back of his neck and felt his head throb. He thought back to being charged or thrown by some demon that he didn't get a look at, and getting knocked out on the pavement after exorcising—but he was hit before he finished the exorcism. Dean's body tensed slightly. He reached into his jacket pocket and clutched a flask of holy water.

"Sam, you did finish the exorcism, right?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Yeah, she's fine."

Sam turned up to look at Dean. The expression on his face was poorly-masked concern. His skin lost a little color as his eyes darted between Dean's face and coat pocket. Dean couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was an overwhelming feeling of wrongness about Sam's reaction. Maybe Sam was just worn out from a stressful few days... but he had been the one who took off with no explanation and voluntarily ran straight into another brawl with way too many demons. He was hiding something. It was an all-too-familiar feeling, but Dean always hated to concede its existence.

Dean pulled the flask of holy water from his pocket and flicked the cap open with his thumb. Sam had immediately stood up, putting himself between Dean and the woman on the bed. Dean's heart was pounding at the surprise standoff. He took half a step back and splashed a little holy water onto Sam's face. Nothing happened. That didn't make any sense. Sam was trying to protect some demon, and by the new expression forming on his face he was done trying to hide it. All the fear had melted away and now Sam looked pissed off more than anything else.

"So, Sammy. You exorcised the demon?" Dean lips turned up into a sour smile before thinning.

"You've got to hear me out." Sam's statement was half-plea and half-demand. That was rich. He had knowingly brought a demon into their home and then was making demands. Dean felt like he was going to throw up even more than when he was being jostled in the back seat.

"You brought a demon here and lied to us about it!" Dean shouted.

"She isn't just some demon," Sam shot back. "It's Ruby."

Dean couldn't tell if that made things better or worse. Everyone knew that he and Ruby hated each other, especially Sam. It wasn't just the fact that she was a demon that bothered him. She was bossy, stubborn, and didn't care about anyone but herself. Worst was that she had wiggled her way into Sam's life with false promises of being able to save Dean from Hell, and in the process started Sam's habit of keeping secrets. There had been a time when he and Sam had been inseparable, but then Sam had found his secret demon helper on the side. And now she was back with a whole new bunch of shit that was inevitably about to hit the fan. Dean wasn't sure how the situation could get worse, but with Ruby in the mix it was guaranteed.

"So knowing the bitch that's riding some pregnant woman makes this better? Do you have any idea how much damage she might be doing? All that demon stuff could fuck up the kid!"

As much as Dean wanting to pin some blame on Ruby, he was also legitimately concerned about the woman and baby. The idea of making a meatsuit from a pregnant woman was so perverted that he was honestly a little surprised he didn't see demons doing it more often.

"The body's dead. Ruby's the only thing keeping the baby alive and you almost exorcised her!" Sam's face was turning red. He was obviously pissed off and not thinking clearly. There were certain standards of decency you did not cross.

"Well, I'm sorry, but demons aren't life support systems," Dean argued. "You don't just shove a demon in someone to keep things ticking. You can't save them all, even some kid, and you sure as hell don't do it by using demons."

As soon as he'd said it Dean realized that Sam was going to call him a hypocrite. Sam would give him shit about selling his soul and probably even working with Shola in order to find him. But Dean knew better than anyone that he wasn't the kind of person that anyone should be looked to as an example. He had signed himself up for an eternity of torment and had only managed to get out of it through blind luck. But Sam didn't call him out. Instead he said something that managed to hit Dean even harder.

"That's not just some kid! That's my kid!"

The silence that followed seemed to be endless. Dean looked at Sam and then glanced at the woman—technically Ruby—then back at Sam. He was struggling to process what he had just heard. The idea that his baby brother was expecting a baby just wasn't quite fitting together. Rationally he understood, but the shock was too much and he was getting dangerously close to throwing rationality out entirely. Thank god Bobby was cool-headed enough to break the silence and even tried to calm the situation.

"Sam, I understand what you're doing with having Ruby keep... her alive, but Dean's right. There's got to be some effect exposing the kid to a demon," Bobby said, causing Sam to roll his eyes in exasperation. Sam's lips moved slightly like he was going to say something, but couldn't figure out how to begin so Bobby tried to give him a place to start. "How long has the baby been exposed? How long has Ruby been possessing her?"

Sam threw up his hands as if he was done with attempting something. He shook his head and an unamused smile flickered on his face. "Ruby's been in the body the whole time. She's been in it for like a year and a half."

"I don't get it. What about the mom?" Dean asked.

"I am the mom, you fuckwit." Ruby's voice was weak, but caught everyone's attention. She was lying on her left side, holding her belly with her arms minus her cut up palms. She looked completely worn out, but her eyes had a venomous quality when she looked at Dean.

It took a minute for Dean to process the new information. Ruby had been in the body for over a year and pregnancies only lasted about nine months. She was the mom. Sam had had sex with Ruby, and he almost certainly knew it was her…. "You and Ruby?" Dean could barely get the words out.

"Yes." Sam stood up to his full height, indicating his determination.

Dean looked like he was going to say something, stopped himself, paced in a small circle, then threw up his hands. "I don't know which is worse: that you fucked a demon or that you spent the whole afternoon lying to me!"

"I was going to tell you—"

"That you're gonna have a kid!" Dean shouted. "I'm your goddamn brother and you just leave that out of our fucking heart-to-heart reunion. That's kinda a thing you tell people."

"Like I could ever tell you and not have you completely flip out about this. Look at yourself!" Sam's voice raised to match Dean's.

"Look at me? You've been running around for a year hanging out with witches and fucking demons. What the hell else have you been doing?!" Dean took a step toward Sam, who just stood his ground and scowled down at Dean in return.

"Don't you dare pretend to know what it's been like—"

"Stop yelling!" snapped Ruby. "Just stop…. You two are exhausting."

"She's right. You two need to cool off before you do or say something you might regret," Bobby added as he stepped forward, ready to forcibly separate the brothers if necessary.

"I think Sam has done enough stuff to regret for the both of us," Dean muttered.

Sam didn't respond, but he looked like it was taking all his willpower not to throw a punch.

"Sam," Ruby said weakly. "We need to get the alarm spell up." She was trying to break up the argument before it turned into a full-blown fist fight by giving Sam something urgent to do.

"Come on, Dean." Sam wanted him to come with him... or more accurately Sam wanted him to not be left alone with Ruby. Spitefully, Dean wanted to say that he'd rather stay there, but he knew that that would almost guarantee him a punch in the face. After the blow to the head from earlier, Dean decided against the comment. Anyway, as much as he hated Ruby he wasn't sure what he was actually prepared to do. All that information was too new to him. He didn't know how to feel… other than betrayed.

"Sure," Dean agreed, then asked, "Bobby, you got any salt?"

Sam candidly glared at his brother. "You aren't going to salt her in here."

"Why not?" Dean prodded.

"Dean, give it a rest," Bobby said, trying to cool the situation. He grabbed the collar of Dean's shirt like he used to do when they were children and began leading Dean out of the room. Dean almost resisted, but he decided not to alienate the one person that might be on his side. "Come on, let's go help Sam."

* * *

'Help' turned out to be an overstatement. Bobby and Dean were mostly following and observing Sam. Bobby had wanted to put some distance between Dean and Ruby while trying to find a way to restart the dialogue with a less hostile tone. That was made difficult by Sam actively trying to ignore Dean and Dean visibly fuming over the smallest things. When Sam opened the trunk of the Impala to retrieve supplies for the alarm spell, Dean became more vocal.

"Let me guess, she's the one that scratched up Baby?"

"It's not scratched up; it's warded. Anyway, it was my car," Sam said defensively.

"Still is. I mean you locked me out—"

"For fuck's sake Dean, I'll add you to the spell!" Sam snapped. "Just stop acting so melodramatic. You don't need to freak out—"

"Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I'm freaking out. I mean, just take a step back and look at the situation. You're a hunter! You damn well better start thinking like one!" Dean was yelling, but he immediately regretted it when he saw that he had accidentally struck a nerve.

"I am not a hunter!" Sam shouted as he wheeled around to confront his brother. "This isn't some job; it's my life! You can't just take a problem, draw some line in the sand, and kill everything on the other side. You're talking about Ruby and my kid, and you're talking about me. Being a hunter doesn't mean you have the moral high ground. It doesn't make you right. It means you have a gun, a fucked up past, and a hero complex. I'm done with hunters and their holier-than-thou bullshit!"

His outburst seemed to be only half-directed at Dean's comment. Something must've happened to make him so sensitive and Dean restrained himself slightly. He was prepared to argue in defense of himself and hunting, but with Sam so upset it'd be dangerous to get into a two-way, heated shouting match… again.

"What the hell happened to you?" Dean asked in a calmer tone.

"You know what happened: hunters," Sam answered coldly. "They were just doing their job. I wasn't doing anything—fuck, I was killing demons by the dozens—and some hunters decided that I'm the number-one bad. They came after me. They came after Ruby and the baby."

"They?" Bobby asked with worry in his voice.

"Some hunters out of North Carolina."

"How many?"

"Something like twenty." Sam made a little move alluding to a shrug. "I stopped counting."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Sam had gone back to looking into the trunk, trying to avoid the others' eyes. Dean and Bobby exchanged a look of concern. Neither knew exactly what Sam meant, but it obviously wasn't good. News had come through their hunter network about a hunting group from North Carolina suffering some bizarre injuries and even fatalities in the last year or so, but neither of them wanted to believe that Sam would really be fighting hunters. Though, if they had been hunting him, that did change things a bit.

"We tried to just knock them out and leave them alone," Sam explained. "But they kept coming. You wanted to know about the gunshot: hunters. You wanted to know about the handcuffs: hunters." He pulled back his sleeves to reveal the matching wrist scars and held them out to emphasize the point. "They jumped me, cuffed me to a beam, beat me, and used me as bait to catch Ruby, because they couldn't just kill me. They had to kill the kid too. You don't know—I was chained up and he hit her, knocked her to the ground—"

"Demons are tough," Dean said. "I'm sure—"

Sam lunged at Dean, but Bobby jumped in between them, grabbing Sam and holding him back. Dean fell backward trying to dodge Sam's unsuccessful attack and hit the side of a junk car. He had meant to rationalize the hunter's action, but only ended up pissing Sam off more. He mentally kicked himself.

"Sam, he didn't mean it like that." Bobby tried to calm the situation. "You're both just pissed off and saying things ya don't mean."

"You're damn right I'm pissed off," Sam agreed. "Dean's defending some fucking hunter who hit Ruby—"

Dean explained, "I was just trying to say that any hunter worth his salt knows that demons—"

"They thought she was human! She was almost eight months pregnant and he hit her. He held a shotgun to her belly. They were going to kill her and the baby on the chance that it was mine. So tell me again about the nobility of being a hunter."

Bobby and Dean looked like they'd had the wind knocked out of them. Neither had a response. There were plenty of things that they could say to try to convince him that not all hunters were like that, but Sam already knew that. He knew that there were good hunters in the world, but he had also learned firsthand that there were cruel or misguided ones. That was his point, and there was no real way to argue with it.

Bobby and Dean had known this truth abstractly, but they had never been the victim of it. It wasn't personal to them the same way that it had been to Sam. Gordon Walker's mission against Sam had been the closest Dean had ever come to being on the prey side of the line, but he never really was prey exactly. He had been the bait and cared about the prey…. Dean remembered the overwhelming helplessness and fear that he had felt, tied to the chair being used to lure his only remaining family to his apparent death. Sam had gone through almost the same thing. No wonder his wrists had been cut up so much. If Walker had cuffed Dean instead of using ropes, he might very well have had matching scars.

"What happened to the hunters?" Bobby asked softly.

"Those ones, they're dead." Sam's expression was almost remorseless. Looking at Dean he added, "I skipped the traditional pyres because of my broken ribs and almost-slit wrists. I hope you aren't going to give me shit for that too."

Dean couldn't bring himself to argue with Sam. He was upset and still in varying levels of shock over everything that had come to light in barely a half hour, but mostly he was concerned. He was concerned for his little brother, who had somehow become hardened. Sam still seemed like there were soft edges to him, but the Sammy that Dean remembered wouldn't have been so dismissive of killing people. Dean could try to blame it on Ruby, but after hearing about the hunters…. Maybe it wasn't having evil as an ally that had changed Sam; maybe it was having 'good' as an enemy.

Dean didn't want to be Sam's enemy. He wanted to bring Sam in from the cold and the chaos. But he didn't know how to be supportive when faced with this whole mess. He couldn't pretend to like Ruby or be okay with some sort of half-demon kid. Maybe with time he could warm up to the idea of the kid, but there were too many of his instincts screaming that that was wrong. He needed to get a little distance so he wouldn't snap at Sam and make the situation worse.

"I'm gonna go take a walk. I need some time to cool down— Don't throw a bitch fit; I'm not going near Ruby." Dean tried to be as diplomatic as possible and then walked off into the junkyard.

Bobby took the opportunity to speak with Sam alone. "Sam, I can see that you've been through a lot, but you're home now. You don't have to fight anyone. I'll bust Dean's ass if that boy says anything out of line, but I can't have you two tearing at each other's throats. You boys need to find a way to be civil at the very least."

"He was about two seconds from suggesting killing Ruby and the baby. 'Think like a hunter'—we all know what that means." Sam was scowling, but it wasn't directed at Bobby.

"I'm not defending what he said, but he's not thinking about it as a baby. He's thinking about it as some unknown danger."

"You're right; he doesn't know. So he's just going to assume the worst. He always was fine dropping 'monsters' without a thought to why. It's them or us to him. Well, my kid isn't a monster and Ruby—"

"I'm not saying there isn't some truth there. Your daddy did instill an awful black-and-white view of the world in him, but think about what this is like from his perspective," Bobby suggested. "You disappeared for a year and a half, then show up with a demon baby-mama and talk casually about killing hunters, the people who raised you boys. Of course he's freaked out. And the more you act out against him, the more he's gonna want to try to save you from what you've become."

"I haven't become anything. I'm still me, but I'm done letting him tell me what to do or how to feel. I'm done being pushed around. I just want to live my life."

"Well, if you want to keep your brother in that life, you're going to have to work for it." Bobby put his hand on Sam's shoulder and gently turned Sam to look him in the eyes. "It seems to me that you've become a man in the last year and a half so maybe you should act like one and forgive your brother."

Sam rested his forehead against the raised trunk of the Impala. He exhaled slowly. It would be hard, but he knew that Dean wouldn't really be able to move past that awkward night if Sam kept being offended at everything he said. If Bobby was trying to talk him down, then Bobby would almost certainly talk to Dean too. It had to be a two-way street.

After a thoughtful pause, Sam replied, "I'll try."

"Good. Now let me give you a hand with this spell. And you're gonna explain it to me. You know the rules; no working magic in my house without you telling me about it first."

* * *

Bobby cleared the kitchen table and Sam laid out the supplies to cast the alarm spell. They worked in an uncomfortable silence, except for the occasional explanation given by Sam.

After about twenty minutes, Dean came in the front door. His cheeks and ears were rosy from the cold winter air. He walked into the kitchen without acknowledging Sam's presence and began making a pot of coffee to warm himself up. After pouring a mug, Dean stepped a little closer to the kitchen table, finally succumbing to his own curiosity. Sam retrieved a small amulet from the cigar box of mementos, which had been placed on the table. As he continued arranging spell components on the kitchen table, Dean walked over and pulled something from the box.

Dean had always known about his little brother's collection of random things. As kids when Sam was sad Dean would ask him what each of the objects meant and Sam would usually be cheered up slightly recalling memories of better times. The last time Dean had seen inside the box was before Sam had left for Stanford. Now Dean didn't recognize half the objects. It was painful for him to see another physical reminder of how much his little brother had changed and experienced without him. Dean picked up a small person made of sticks, glue, and orange yarn.

"Hoodoo totem or souvenir from a craft fair?" Dean asked, turning the figurine in his hand.

"Be careful with that." At Sam's stern warning Dean suddenly handled the possibly-dangerous object with care. Softening his tone, Sam added, "It was a gift."

Bobby walked over to stand between and slightly behind them, allowing a view of the spell that Sam was casting and the contents of the box. Dean placed the stick man back into the box, then resumed investigating the other keepsakes. Dean skipped a large section of papers, instead opting to look at the stones, pins, charms, and other random objects. But Bobby spotted something among the papers. He reached across Dean to pull the set of ultrasound photos from the box. Dean stopped playing with an old coin and Sam glanced over at Bobby, but didn't say anything. Bobby quietly looked through all the photos, then returned to the one with the clearest image before speaking.

"So, when's she due?"

"A week or two." Sam self-consciously adjusted some of the spell components and tried not to look at Bobby. He didn't know what to expect from the conversation, but Bobby's voice had lightened in a way that made Sam's heart feel tight.

"Do you know if it's a boy or girl?" Bobby was asking normal baby questions and Sam realized that he was trying to be accepting of the situation.

"We don't know."

"Well, have you at least got names picked out? If you're gonna make me feel old by turning me into a grandpa, then I damn well get to be the first one to know the name."

A choked-up laugh escaped Sam. Bobby gently squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. Within a second Sam had Bobby in a desperate hug and Bobby returned it, softly patting his back.

Dean quietly watched, still processing everything that he'd been feeling earlier and what he had just witnessed with Bobby. It had been no secret that Sam had always wanted to be normal with a nine-to-five job, a wife, and two and a half kids. Dean wanted Sam to be happy, but the current situation wasn't right no matter how he looked at it. If things had been different…. If tomorrow morning there wasn't a single monster left in the world and they had nothing better to do than go domestic, Sam still wouldn't be getting the apple-pie-and-white-picket-fence dream that he deserved.

Instead he was having a baby with a demon. It had upset Dean on several levels. Sam had stopped trying to get him out of Hell and moved on with his life. In a way it made sense, but it still hurt. Then he had lied to Dean about what he'd been doing. He had started fucking a demon—and not just any demon, but one that Sam knew he hated. And now Sam wanted to leave hunting and possibly him, after they had just been reunited, to be with Ruby and some demon baby. That was about as far from what he had wanted for Sam as it got.

But part of the problem was that, it'd be easier if Sam was being tricked or if something mischievous was happening, but so far it didn't really seem like it. Yes, Sam had changed and was acting strange compared with what Dean had known, but the changes seemed almost understandable considering everything that had happened. Maybe that was really the new Sam? Seeing the way Sam talked about Ruby and the baby, his feelings appeared sincere. Maybe Sam had settled or fallen in love, but he was different. Dean had heard that becoming a parent changed people; maybe it had already changed Sam? Or maybe it was being away from Dean for so long? After all, Sam had changed so much after Stanford and he'd had the stability of a normal life then. A year and a half through a gauntlet had to leave a mark or two.

Dean wanted his little kid brother back, but it was clear that that wasn't going to happen. Bobby had already made the gesture of acceptance, even if he didn't necessarily agree with Sam's choices. But Dean wasn't sure he could do that yet. All he had was hunting with Sam and the idea that his brother would give that up, no matter the circumstances, was heartbreaking. It was only made worse by Sam choosing a demon over him. But those choices had been made back when he'd thought Dean was dead and they couldn't be unmade now.

"Sammy," Dean said as he shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms in a defensively determined gesture. "I don't like what's going on. I can't even begin to tell you how much I—you know, whatever. I'm not going to fight with you. You're my brother and I'll deal."

"Dean, stop being such a hard ass and hug your damn brother." Bobby stepped out of the way and basically shoved Sam into Dean. The brothers awkwardly embraced, but both of them were secretly grateful for Bobby forcing the act. Dean broke the hug first. "Okay, now that that's over you better finish this spell of yours before we've got demons at the door."


	22. Nightmares & Dreams

Sam completed the spell in only a few minutes while Dean and Bobby watched. Occasionally, Bobby would ask about some aspect of the spell and was impressed with the extent of Sam's knowledge. Dean also had to secretly admit that it was kind of nice that someone could finally explain why it seemed like every spell involved drawing a circle or using blood. After activating the glass spheres, Sam laid them out in a familiar pattern to indicate at a glance the direction and proximity of any demons. He started describing what the arrangement indicated, when Ruby started screaming upstairs.

It took Dean and Bobby a moment to realize what was happening, but Sam instantly ran for the stairs, and began taking them three at a time. He nearly missed his footing near the top, but in his panic to get to Ruby he unconsciously gave himself a little telekinetic push upward. Dean and Bobby didn't see the strange save because Sam had already reached the bedroom by the time they had gotten to the bottom of the staircase.

When Dean and Bobby had reached the bedroom doorway Ruby had stopped screaming. Sam was kneeling next to the bed, one hand cupping the side of her face, the other holding onto her shoulder reassuringly. She saw the two of them watching from outside the doorway and avoided making eye contact with them in what looked like an act of embarrassment. Sam whispered something to her, squeezed her shoulder gently, then stood up. He walked out of the bedroom into the hall where Dean and Bobby were waiting.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked.

"She, um…." Sam hesitated as he ran his fingers through his hair. "She gets nightmares."

"Nightmares? As in sleeping nightmares?" Bobby's eyes had widened and he peered around Sam to look at Ruby through the doorway. "Sam, demons don't sleep."

"Yeah…. Well they don't need food or get pregnant either, but she just likes breaking the rules," Sam joked, but he was too tired to smile.

"What do you mean demons don't get pregnant?" Dean asked as he held up his hands in a timeout gesture and leaned his head forward, eager for an explanation.

"I hadn't ever heard of it before, but I guess there's gotta be all sorts of stuff I haven't heard of…. But you mean this is the first time?" Bobby asked, continuing to eye Ruby, who refused to meet his gaze.

"As far as we can tell…." Sam spoke meekly, betraying some discomfort with the subject.

"Fucking fantastic. Any theories on what that means?" Dean asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam's voice rose in agitation.

"I'm sorry. If you hadn't noticed things are kind of going to shit with the demons and right now there just happens to be some half demon—" Dean struggled to watch what he was saying. He could see Sam's posture change, becoming defensive.

"It wasn't anything weird," Sam countered. "It just sort of happened, like any other unplanned pregnancy. It doesn't have to mean anything. It could just be a coincidence. Lilith's doing some big stuff; the demon activity spike is probably just related to her."

If Sam was less tired he might have conceded the point and just let Dean's assertions roll off him, but he was completely emotionally raw and expecting a fight. It was true that the timing was a little odd. On the road he and Ruby hadn't realized just how much the demonic activity on Earth had increased. And yet, getting pregnant after consistently having unprotected sex wasn't exactly a snowball's chance in Hell, especially considering that the whole demon-toxicity thing hadn't seem to be a factor. Maybe there was something to the timing, but there also was a fair argument for it being a coincidence... and being a coincidence was much more likely to mean the baby would be left alone.

"But a demon baby hasn't happened before. I mean, you can't be the only person to fuck a demon. Why would it only work now without it being related to everything else that's going on?" Dean argued.

"We think it's because...of me. I'm the difference, not the timing or anything else." Sam looked incredibly uncomfortable, but not exactly embarrassed.

"What do you mean?"

"I've got demon blood in me," He explained. Dean and Bobby just stared, too shocked and confused for words. "That's why I have the psychic powers and that demon virus didn't affect me. Azazel gave me demon blood when I was a baby, the night mom died. He told me before Jake stabbed me…. So, yeah. It seems I'm just human enough get things going and just demon enough to get it going with a demon."

Dean took a step back and held up his hand. His head shook slightly, for a moment he was unable to look at Sam.

"You knew you had demon blood for a whole year before I died and didn't think to mention it?!" Dean was starting to yell again, but he couldn't help it.

"It's not like you could've done anything about it and I didn't want you freaking out." Sam had expected Dean to flip out slightly so he was able to brace himself. He was trying to stay calm, to prevent a real fight from breaking their currently eggshell-thin relationship.

"Oh yes, because finding out like this is much better," Dean huffed, switching from yelling to the slightly-less-hostile sarcasm.

"I think you guys are missing the more pressing issue." Bobby tried to redirect the brothers' attention from hurt feelings to the more important matter. "If Ruby's a demon and you're a little bit demon, then I think it's safe to say that that baby is gonna be a good bit demon."

"It's human too," Sam rebutted.

"But what does that even mean?" Dean interjected. "We don't know what we're dealing with here."

"We're not 'dealing with' anything. This is—" Sam was starting to feel his self-control crumbling and being cut off by Dean wasn't helping.

"Sammy, you're not thinking about this objectively. You've got to take a step back at think about how we'd handle this if it was any other—"

But Dean didn't get to finish his sentence. Sam had stepped forward, stopping just short of throwing a punch, instead settling for pointing a trembling finger at Dean's face. In that moment Sam looked painfully tired and hurt, lip quivering and eyes watering.

"Don't! Don't say 'job.' You don't get it. This isn't some thing that needs to be dealt with. This is my kid. We can research and talk about this, but this is not a job. It's not a job!"

Dean backed off in every sense of the word. He stepped backward, lowering his hands slowly. All hostility left his face, replaced by pity and brotherly concern. Bobby stepped forward and cautiously put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Okay, yeah. This isn't a job. We're just saying we should do some research. You've been running around all over the country without any time to really get ready. I mean, you must be exhausted. Why don't you get some rest?" Bobby suggested.

"Ruby needs to rest more than me and one of us should stay up to keep an eye out for demons," Sam stated matter of factly, running a hand through his hair while trying to regain his composure.

"It may have been the two of you for a long time, but right now there are four of us. We want to help you, Sam. Dean and I will keep watch. Go get some sleep; you're still healing." Bobby patted Sam's back softly.

Sam looked a little confused by the offer, unaccustomed to really having help beyond Ruby. It had been so long that it felt foreign and hadn't even occurred to him. "Fine. I'll bandage up Ruby's injuries, then I'll go to bed…. Thank you."

"Dean, go grab the first aid kit from the kitchen," Bobby ordered in his best almost-dad voice. Dean looked thoughtfully at Sam, smiled sadly, then went down to the kitchen. "Sam, I want you to know that you and the kid are safe here as far as I'm concerned. And your brother might be a little rough around the edges, but he'd never really do anything to hurt you, including touching the kid."

"I know. It's just, for months I've been hearing my dad's voice telling me…." Sam covered his face with his hands, then rubbed his stinging eyes. "I don't think I could take hearing it from Dean."

"Dean loves you, and he's a better man than your daddy ever was. So are you. Both of you'll be fine; you each just gotta pull your heads out of your asses."

* * *

Dean handed Sam the first aid kit, then paused briefly to gently pat his shoulder and smiled in a strange combination of concern and reassurance. Once Dean had started heading back down the stairs, Sam went into the bedroom and began cleaning Ruby's wounds. Part way through he stopped to adjust her pillow to be more supportive. She smiled weakly up at him.

He thought back to the crazy scene he had stumbled upon earlier in the night. She had more or less blown up the motel room, defended herself against half a dozen demons, somehow killed one without her knife, and did it all while basically having a watermelon strapped to her. The idea that she had somehow managed to paralyze one of the demons by cutting his tendons conjured the strangest mental images. She had even made it out of the building with only one demon on the ground floor. Except for Dean's interruption she might have slipped away from the demons on her own.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a hell of a woman?"

"Only the smart ones." She grinned smugly.

"I should have been there. If—"

"You got there in time," she said, trying to quell his guilt. "I'm not gonna say that I had things under control, but I had another trick or two up my sleeve for the demons. It was the hunter I wasn't expecting."

Sam pursed his lips and closed his eyes for a moment. He knew that Ruby would initially be stubbornly 'us against them' where Dean was involved, but she would have to swallow her anger and pride too if this was going to work. He just hoped that she really cared enough about him to endure Dean, especially if it took Dean a while to come around.

"I'm trying to make things work between me and him…. Could you do me a favor and just call him Dean?" he asked meekly. "I know it's silly, but I don't want to think of him as a hunter, at least until things get better. He's just my brother."

"Okay, I won't use the h-word. Do you think he's gonna try on his end?"

"I think so. He seemed disappointed... but he also stopped himself from doing something stupid a few times. I think Bobby will probably talk to him and try to fix things between us. He's already talked me down twice. I'm sure Dean is getting an ear-full right now."

"I'm sorry that everything went to shit tonight." Ruby placed one bandaged hand on Sam's and exhaled a chuckle at the poignant gesture.

Sam looked at her, her bandaged hand, and the shabby little spare bedroom. He sighed slowly, then smiled. "Honestly, I'm not. I'm glad they know. All the lying…. I'm so tired of lying. It's better that they know about us and the baby."

"You sure they won't try anything?" Ruby asked, unconsciously covering her belly with the other hand.

"I'll keep an eye on Dean, but I don't think he'll actually try anything," Sam assured her. "He can be a hardass, but I don't think he'd do anything to hurt me. Bobby doesn't think so either."

"Well, Dean might not want to hurt you, but I'm sure he has no problem going after me."

"He might argue with you, like the old days, but I doubt he hates you so much that he'd be willing to screw over his relationship with me. I'm the only family he's got left other than Bobby. Anyway, we'll be gone before the baby's born so you'll have a tiny human shield while around him."

"Half-human shield," she corrected.

He kissed the back of her bandaged hand, then suggested, "Maybe try not to remind him of that."

"How's Bobby taking the news? I can't get a good read on him."

"I think he's taking it pretty well, all things considered. He referred to himself as a grandpa." Sam smiled. "Aside from being a bit worried, I think it's okay. He's trying to make it not awkward."

"Well, that's—" Ruby touched her belly and let out a long sigh, then relaxed into the bed a bit more. "The baby's moving."

Sam placed his hand on her belly and felt a little shifting sensation. He felt relief unlike any he'd known before. Things had gone from bad to worse in such a short stretch of time, but even though everything went unexpectedly it had somehow ended up generally for the better. He was with Bobby and Dean, but so were Ruby and the baby. The baby didn't seem to be harmed by the attempted exorcism. They weren't even lying about Ruby's identity or having to dance around the whole baby thing.

It wasn't a perfect situation though. Eventually, Lilith's demons would roll through the area and he would have to flee with Ruby, but maybe he could call every once in a while or meet up with Dean on the road. Sam doubted that Dean and Ruby could ever find a way to be comfortable with Dean visiting the coven. He wasn't sure that Dean could stand being surrounded by witches even if it meant being able to see a nephew or niece. But maybe Bobby would visit? The old hunter was a softy at heart and the grandpa comment had given Sam more hope than he had expected.

Sam finished tying off the last of Ruby's bandages, took off his jacket and shoes, then climbed into bed with her. He lay down behind her on the bed that was barely big enough for a single person. The tight fit didn't bother either of them. Ruby turned slightly to look back at him, but he just ran his fingers through her hair reassuringly.

"Dean and Bobby are going to keep an eye out so we can get some sleep." He nuzzled his face into her hair and was asleep within seconds.

* * *

Bobby and Dean grabbed some beers, then sat down at the kitchen table to watch the glass spheres that Sam had set up. Neither of them could remember what exactly each sphere correlated to, but if any of them so much as moved they would just run for Sam. Dean looked at the cigar box, but didn't start digging through it again. He just shook his head and took a long chug of his beer.

"Can you believe that Sam is so anti-hunter?" Dean asked, more hurt than angry. "I mean I get that he had a few run-ins with a bad crowd, but to be so dismissive of all of us…."

"It sounds like he's had a year-and-a-half living on the other side of the fence," Bobby commented. "Unless we're missing something it sounds like the last time he was with a hunter that wasn't trying to kill him, was when we buried you. Traumatic departure and then being hunted yourself, I could see it changing a person."

"I know, I mean it makes sense…. It's just, we're hunters. He knows good hunters." Dean took another sip, nearly finishing his bottle. "I mean he could still be a good hunter. He could make a difference. But he is acting like he's just done and good riddance."

"He might really be done hunting. Aside from the whole trauma by that group of hunters, he's going to have a kid. Could you imagine Sam raising a child into the life of a hunter? Especially, a kid that's part demon. He'll probably do everything he can to keep that kid away from hunters."

"With good reason," Dean conceded. He gripped his empty beer bottle and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He couldn't meet Bobby's eyes, so he just looked at the floor. "I don't know if I can accept it, Bobby. I mean, this kid has got to be bad news. It's not gonna be human, not really…."

"The kid might be something else, but I'm not sure what we could do even if we were convinced that that's a good enough reason to do something. Sam seems like he's going to do whatever it takes to protect that kid. I don't think we're really going to fight him. Hell, if we did it sounds like we'd lose."

"It's Sam. He wouldn't—" Dean started while shaking his head, but was cut off by a hard truth.

"He's killed almost a dozen hunters, and has been involved in a lot more combat than we have lately. I personally don't like those odds. I don't care if he's your sweet little brother. If push comes to shove a parent will do incredible things to protect their child."

"So what, he just has some weird demon kid and tries to keep it away from hunters? We're hunters—"

Bobby put down his beer with enough force to silence Dean, who apparently had crossed some line. "No. We're family. We gotta make that clear to him. Unless this kid is something really dangerous we're not going to try anything. Sam needs to know that he can count on us or we're just gonna lose him again. He needs us." Bobby spoke firmly and Dean looked up at him pleadingly.

"Bobby, this kid—"

"Is your nephew or niece, and you should try to get used to that idea. Acting like it's a threat around Sam is just going to spook him."

"It might be a threat," said Dean quietly.

"Yeah, and so might Sam. Ever since he started having visions he was something that might be dangerous, but have you ever seriously considered putting him down?"

Dean bit his lip and acknowledged Bobby's point with thoughtful silence before muttering, "Things would just be better without the kid."

"Things would be better for you, but think about what Sam wants. You might hate Ruby and be freaked out about the baby, but you saw the way he was with her. He really does care about them."

Dean absentmindedly played with his beer bottle as he asked, "Do you think he's in love with her?"

"I don't know…. He's always been an idjit; you both have. I wouldn't put it past him to fall for a demon. He always was so compassionate that he'd give everyone a chance."

* * *

There was a living room illuminated only by two electric lanterns resting on the floor. The curtains were pulled shut and the furniture had been removed, leaving imprints on the perfect white carpet. At least four people were bound on the ground, blood clotted on their faces, and a strange metallic purple powder had been sprinkled on them. They looked up at their captors, a group of maybe six men and women holding knives. One man held a large spool of nylon rope.

"You'll never get away with this," one of the prisoners managed in a jagged, hoarse voice. After speaking she coughed painfully causing a little fresh blood to trickle down her chin.

"We're not trying to get away with anything," explained one of the captors. His voice was full of conviction and he even smiled pleasantly. "This is just the beginning. We'll move on and the world will know we walk in the light."

"You're insane," the bound woman replied as she shook her head. The man reached down, slid his fingers through her blood-caked hair. It was almost a caress or a comforting gesture until he tightened his fingers and jerked her head backward to make her look up at him.

"We could say the same about you."

He plunged the knife into her chest. The other captors grabbed their own prisoners and went to work. The prisoners were each stabbed repeatedly, turning the crisp white carpet dark red. When the prisoners were dead, the captors began carving into the skin of the corpses, but the images were unclear. Then the bodies were hung upside down from the ceiling with rope.

"Come on. We have a lot of work ahead of us," the leader said as he walked out the front door into a snow-covered street.

Sam woke up in a cold sweat and looked around the bedroom. Dim moonlight came in the windows and a bit of warm light shone through the barely-cracked door. It was quiet and peaceful, except for the unsettling images of mutilated bodies that lingered in his mind. Ruby had been jostled awake by him sitting up abruptly on the too-small bed. She rolled back to look at him.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Something's happening—no," he corrected himself. "Something's starting."


	23. The Morning After

Dean had taken the first watch until about three in the morning, then went to bed after being relieved by Bobby. He quietly walked back to his room, passing the spare bedroom that Ruby had been in. The door hadn't closed properly and was cracked slight. After a moment's hesitation, he leaned over to peer into the room. Sam was in the bed with Ruby and they both appeared to be sleeping rather peacefully.

Silently, Dean continued on to his room and lay down on the bed. In a strange epiphany he realized that he really thought of it as 'his room'. It had been over twenty-five years since he'd claimed a bedroom and settled his belongings somewhere. After returning from Hell, he had almost nothing to call his own. Sam had taken the Impala along with all its contents. Dean had only had the clothes he was buried in and Bobby's charity. Over the past eight months he had used Bobby's home as his base of operations, leaving his clothes and other newly acquired belongs in the bedroom he used while in the area. When the leads on Sam were slim, Dean would just stay at the house to help Bobby with the greater hunter network. In the house, he'd formed routines and felt more grounded. Reflecting on it, he noticed that earlier in the night he had reacted to Bobby's instructions with the same reverence that he would have given to his dad.

He had secretly settled down or something like that. Dean tried to imagine going hunting if Sam really did quit. There was no doubt that Sam would give him back the Impala, but without Sam riding shotgun it would just be him; it wouldn't be his home. Bobby was a source of immense comfort in his life, but there was a reason the old hunter worked the phones. Hell would literally need to be breaking loose to get Bobby back in the field regularly…. Granted, it kind of felt like that with everything that had been going on.

Dean looked at the dresser on the far side of the room. He had bought a record player and about two dozen vinyls to replace his lost music collection that lived in the Impala. He could have just bought some tapes or CDs to use on the road, but he had indulged. It even had a high quality amp and speakers, which occasionally became the bane of Bobby's existence. Those objects would be no good to him on the road. At the time it hadn't occurred to him how out of character those purchases were, but maybe he had changed too. He was thirty-one if you looked at his driver's license, but sometimes he felt the full hundred twenty-one years of his soul. Sure, he was fit enough to get at least ten or fifteen more years of decent hunting in, but the thought of going it alone made the entire prospect seem more unpleasant than it was in his early twenties.

In his fatigue he helplessly fell down memory lane. He thought of the false paradise he'd lived thanks to the djinn attack a few years back. In that life Sam had almost nothing in common with him because they hadn't hunted together. If Sam quit would they grow apart from having nothing in common? Was he really so two-dimensional that they couldn't find something to keep their bond alive? He imagined trying to think of anything they would be able to talk about if Sam wasn't having anything to do with hunting and those were the only stories Dean had to tell. Sam would probably talk about the kid, but Dean could barely relate to that. Maybe he'd tell stories about Sam when he was younger, but how much could he really say that Sam hadn't heard a million times before?

He thought of Lisa and Ben. Some nights he would think about them, imagine being a family together. Lisa was beautiful, smart, funny… so many things that he could see himself loving, but it felt a little off. He cared about her and Ben, probably only second to Bobby, Sam, Ellen, and Jo at that point, but the thought of being with her somehow felt like settling. He was only thinking about the two of them then because he was hoping to find some common ground with Sam. Starting a relationship based on the motive of securing a different one seemed like the worst reason for him to re-enter their lives.

Keeping his relationship with Sam alive was going to take a lot of work. Bobby was right. He would have to be more than a hunter. He'd have to be Sam's brother and try to repair their friendship before their lifestyle disparity drove them further apart.

* * *

It took a while for Dean to fall asleep, but at least the sleep he did manage was dreamless from sheer exhaustion. He awoke, surprised that he hadn't had another nightmare about Hell. With everything that had happened the night before it was a miracle that he had gotten any rest at all.

It was the early morning, but someone was already in the kitchen. He could smell the heavenly combination of coffee and bacon. After throwing on some clean clothes and doing his normal morning routine, Dean descended the stairs, then went to seek out whatever breakfast was left.

Sam was seated alone at the kitchen table, staring at a pad of paper and tapping a pen in frustration. A few pages had been ripped from the pad and depicted strange symbols that looked like pieces of an incomplete image. He had an almost empty mug of coffee and a small plate with a half-eaten slice of toast. There was a baking sheet full of extra crispy bacon resting on the stove. Dean excitedly shoveled several strips of bacon onto a plate, poured himself some coffee, and took the seat to Sam's right.

"Hey, Picasso," he said as he started into his bacon. "You're up early."

"I got a solid four hours." Sam rubbed his forehead, then looked up at Dean. "I had some trouble sleeping."

"Are you okay?" Dean asked. The words echoed in his ears for moment and it occurred to him that he couldn't recall the last time he had asked Sam that. Sam smiled a little in what seemed like appreciation of the question, then put down the pen and leaned back in his chair to fully acknowledge his brother's company.

"I had a vision last night."

"You're getting those again?" Dean was a little taken aback. To his knowledge, Sam hadn't had a vision since before Yellow Eyes had died. Now over three years later they were back?

"Yeah."

"Do you think it's related to all this demon stuff?"

"No... I don't think so." Sam tapped his fingertips on the pad of paper and temporarily avoided meeting Dean's eyes. "They started up before everything went nuts."

"What'd you see last night?"

"Some people. They were tied up and stabbed. I don't know where or why, but after they were dead the attackers cut things into them and strung them up." Dean stopped short of suggesting that carving up people and hanging them sounded like witches. He didn't want to start the morning off on a bad foot, but he made a mental note to investigate that line of thinking on his own. "I'm trying to piece together what the carvings looked like, but it wasn't really clear."

Sam rubbed his head again, then reach into his pocket. He pulled out a small bottle of aspirin and took two with the remainder of his probably-cold coffee.

"Are the visions bothering you? I thought you had that stuff under control."

Dean remembered how in the beginning his little brother would nearly pass out from the headaches caused by his visions. At the moment things didn't seem nearly that bad, but Sam had spent who knew how many hours recovering already. It was certainly worse than the last time Dean had seen him suffer a vision.

"I did until a couple weeks ago. It was weird. All the demons took off, but when they came back it was…." Sam's brow furrowed, betraying his discomfort with the unknown implications. "It was like back when it started."

"Nose bleeds and all?"

"Yeah…. It's getting better though." Sam smiled weakly. "No nose bleeds this week, except from a broken nose."

Dean started eating a strip of bacon and looked around the room, unsure of what to say next. Part of him wanted to make a joke about Sam talking so matter-of-factly about taking a beating, but that felt incredibly insensitive after what he'd been told last night. Sam had returned his attention to the pad of paper, drawing a new shape while scrunching up his face in concentration. He absentmindedly scratched at one of his wrist scars, which made Dean lose some of his appetite. Dean put down his bacon and exhaled to renew his composure.

"Listen... I'm sorry about last night. I said some things that crossed the line. This whole thing is…." Dean raised his hands in a gesture that conveyed nothing but awkward confusion. "I'm trying."

"I know you are."

"Remember when we were kids and I accidentally killed that cactus you kept in the back seat cup holder?" Sam chuckled at Dean's non sequitur. "I'm gonna be an uncle. How screwed up is that?"

"It's terrifying," Ruby commented as she gingerly entered the kitchen. She looked tired, but all signs of disorientation were gone. Her bandages and shirt were stained brown with old blood, most of it not her own.

"Other people's blood is a good look on you. Really classing up the place," Dean said with an unpleasant smile.

She held up a bandaged hand and made an imperfect attempt at flipping him off. "You wanna come over here and help me make some matching pants?"

She waddled over to the stove, grabbed some bacon for herself, and sat down at the table to Sam's left directly across from Dean. Sam looked at her, smirked, then turned back to Dean, waiting to see who would make the next bickering comment.

"What's a demon even have nightmares about?" Dean asked while staring bluntly at Ruby.

"Hell," she replied before coolly countering, "Tell me, Dean. What do you dream about?"

He frowned at her. Not only had she turned his jab around on him, but she knew. Of course it made sense that she would know he had nightmares about Hell; she'd been there too. It was disconcerting to find they actually had something in common, and more than that, it was something no one else could understand.

"Fuck you, that's what." Not his wittiest retort, but she had distracted him by hitting too close to home.

"No. That's actually what your brother dreams about." Her eyebrows rose smugly and Dean could've sworn she mouthed the words 'suck it' at him. Now it was official. Dean had entirely lost his appetite. It was bad enough for her to put that image in his head, but to make him pass up crispy bacon…. Dean glared at her.

"Leave me out of this," Sam said, intently drawing on the paper and trying to avoid eye contact with either of them. His ears had turned pink.

"Any luck with the carvings?" Ruby asked, mercifully changing the subject after seeing that she'd embarrassed him more than she had meant.

"I've got some pieces, but I don't know how they fit together. There were several bodies and I only got little glimpses…. It might even have a little overlap in parts." Sam moved several pages with drawings around on the table. He rotated them one at a time trying to spark a memory, but it wasn't coming.

"Your visions have all been about Lilith lately. Do you think it's a task of hers?" Ruby speculated, trying to be helpful.

"This was different. Her tasks have been so granular—isolated…. The way the leader talked about it..." Sam pursed his lips. "This felt like something was just beginning. I don't know how to explain it. Maybe she's switching up her game plan?"

"The Crossroads demon that I was talking with hinted that something chaotic happened in the pit. Maybe it has to do with that?" Dean suggested.

"Maybe." Sam frowned down at his drawings.

Bobby entered through the side door next to the kitchen, then walked over to the sink and began washing his hands. Instead of going to sleep when Sam came down, he had just decided to go work on his current project of restoring a 1973 Opel Manta A. He poured himself a cup of coffee before refilling Sam's mug without asking. After putting down the carafe, he leaned against the counter and looked at his house guests. He glanced at the mostly empty sheet of bacon, then eyed Dean and Ruby who both had plates full of strips in front of them.

"You guys are gonna run me out of food at this rate. It's been a while since I had such a full house. Hell, depending on how long you're here it might get even more crowded." Bobby nodded at Ruby.

"We'll probably have to take off in a day or two," Sam said, a little pained. "It seems like we can only get a few days between attacks. And we don't want them gunning for you."

"What are you going to do anyway? Once the kid's born. I mean, I can't see you taking a kid on the road. Especially—" Dean almost brought up the half-demon thing, but instead tried to be more diplomatic—"with everything that's going on."

Sam overlooked Dean's half-second pause to bite his tongue and answered, "Well... until we figure out a better solution we were going to stay with Ruby's coven."

Dean's eyebrows rose and he nodded slowly while taking in the information. Everyone was staring at him waiting to see how he would react. Bobby looked equally surprised as Dean felt, but nobody really expected Bobby to be the one to make a scene over it. Dean placed his hands palms-down on the table and took a calming breath.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to go stay with…." Dean tilted his head as he licked his lips dryly. He was struggling to think of a tactful way to finish his sentence and the lingering silence made it painfully obvious.

"Witches?" Ruby said what everyone knew he was thinking. "You can say the word; same with whole half-demon thing. Saying something a few times doesn't make it any more real." She was looking at Dean like he was an idiot. Apparently Sam hadn't told her about the Bloody Mary incident.

"The coven is really well hidden and protected," Sam explained in an attempt to reassure Dean. "When we were there last we were completely off the radar to Lilith and…."

"Hunters," Ruby finished for him. "The coven's been incredibly safe from hunters."

"We shouldn't have a problem with the North Carolina gang there." Sam tried to narrow the idea of hunters in general just to the group that was actively hunting him.

Dean pursed his lips, but still appreciated Sam's attempt to not categorically exclude him and Bobby from his life. "This is the same coven that you wouldn't tell me about yesterday?" Dean huffed in a combination of a question and a statement. "I don't suppose you'd tell me where it is now?"

"Dean." Sam's voice had an unconvinced reluctance to it. "Would you really be okay going to a coven and not, you know...?"

"Burning them at the stake?" Ruby once again chimed in.

Sam and Dean both rolled their eyes, but Sam did so because the comment was dismissive of Dean. Meanwhile, Dean did so because burning was a horribly impractical way to kill a witch. The local phone line rang and Bobby escaped the tense scene to answer it.

"Delicate as always—" Dean stopped himself from calling her 'bitch.'

"Maybe you two need to be a little less delicate and just talk like fucking adults," she countered.

Dean couldn't really argue with her suggestion. Sam and Ruby both knew everything he had been tiptoeing around, the same way he and Bobby had knew that Sam was trying to avoid sounding anti-hunter. The whole pretending-that-he-was-already-fine-with-everything approach was not only insincere but also a huge pain in the ass. There was probably more ground to be made by being honest about their disagreements, as long as nobody did or said anything really mean-spirited. Sam knew that he wasn't perfect and that he was trying. That would hopefully be good enough.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to raise a kid around a bunch of witches?" Dean asked frankly. "I mean, it's safe from Lilith and hunters, but is it a good environment for the kid?"

"My coven would never hurt a kid, especially mine," Ruby replied defensively.

"Ruby's witches are good people and really like her," Sam added. "Also, the environment is perfectly fine to raise a kid in. There—"

But Sam was cut off by Bobby's return from the other room, wearing a bleak expression. He walked over to Sam and put a hand on his shoulder, then said, "Time to stow picking a preschool. Sam, you got a suit still?"

"More or less…. Why?"

"You and Dean need to go into town on a job." Sam started to object, but couldn't get a word out before Bobby continued, "Don't get your panties in a twist over terminology. You're definitely gonna want to see this."

"See what?" Dean asked.

"Jody—Sheriff Mills called. She found five bodies in a house about an hour ago, stabbed something awful and hung from the ceiling. Their skin was carved up."


	24. Major Arcana

It didn't take more than a few minutes before the brothers were suited up and on the road into town. Sam had had everything that he'd needed to look like a fed, except for a necktie which Bobby leant him. His dress shirt was slightly wrinkled, but it would have to do since he could no longer fit into Dean's shirts and they were short on time. Bobby had told Sam that Jody would run interception if any of the locals asked too many questions. But Sam assured him in turn that just because he'd been out of the game for over a year, it didn't mean he couldn't work a cover. Dean scowled slightly at the reminder of how hard Keith Ness had been to locate.

After Sam and Dean had left for town, Ruby decided to go back up to the bedroom to rest. She was feeling much better than the night before, but her full strength wasn't back yet. It had taken more magic than she was used to wielding in order to evade the group of demons. That combined with the unpleasant attempted exorcism and the physical drain of being pregnant had taken its toll. She was looking forward to having renewed autonomy and mobility in a week or two, but in the quiet house she allowed herself to relish a day or two of sloth-like inactivity. About an hour after retreating to the bedroom, Bobby knocked on the door.

He found Ruby lying on the bed reading a worn copy of Howl by Allen Ginsberg. She looked up when he entered, but didn't say anything, unsure what his presence signified. He approached the edge of the bed and handed her a large bundle of clothes. Picking up the one on the top of the pile, Ruby held it out to discover that it was a maternity shirt. The style was outdated, but the overall look didn't really offend her sensibilities.

"When I was looking for a tie for Sam—I thought you might want some cleaner clothes." He looked uncomfortable, but she wasn't sure if he was embarrassed by his gesture or if something else was bothering him. "You might need to cut a slit or two up the side to let it out a bit. I only had clothes up through seven months."

"You had these?" Ruby raised an eyebrow at the old, borderline-recluse hunter.

"In the attic. My wife—they were hers…."

"I'm sorry." She shifted to face him a little more, but didn't know what else to say.

With the exception of the afternoon that she had spent helping him repair the Colt two years earlier, she hadn't really interacted with Bobby very much. Initially, he had treated her with the same animosity that Dean had, but he had been faster to accept her as an unpleasant, yet useful asset. And there he was offering her the use of his dead wife's clothes. It seemed that a lot had changed between them and she couldn't entirely understand why, but she knew better than to blow off either his hospitality or vulnerability.

"It was a long time ago. She—those were a hard few years." When he spoke, he looked at the wall or the floor, anywhere but at Ruby. "We never did end up having any kids."

"The way Sam tells it, you were more of a father to them than John ever was," she said in an attempt to validate him. The old hunter smiled slightly and relaxed a bit.

"Thanks…. John was always so fixated on keeping them safe and trained…. I know I'm not really their dad, but I couldn't stand them growing up so fast. Dean, he was already an old soul when I met him. He was seven then, but he didn't even play ball." Bobby leaned against a dresser and his smile turned downward, betraying his feelings of pity. "Sam was easier. He was only three, so as long as he can remember I'd sneak in trips to the playground or things like that. He never had to relearn how to find happiness outside the life."

Ruby tilted her head in an acknowledging nod. "That actually explains a lot."

"I might not've been their real dad growing up, but I like to think… maybe I made a difference."

"I don't remember my parents—not just 'cause of the demon thing; I grew up far away from them. But I had people that took care of me even in… horrible circumstances. They shaped the kind of human I became and honestly I like to think my relationship with them shapes the demon I am. They were there and they made the difference, like you did." She set down the bundle of clothes and Bobby finally allowed his eyes to meet hers. "Thank you, Bobby. You raised a good man—maybe one and a half, but don't tell Dean I said so."

Bobby chuckled, then mimed sealing his lips, which had curled into another soft smile.

"Actually the funny thing is, aside from giving you the clothes, I came up here to thank you."

"What for?" Ruby furrowed her brow slightly, trying to think of anything she'd done aside from using his bed and eating his food.

"When Sam left, he was torn to pieces. Thanks for bringing him back whole."

* * *

Sam threw Dean the keys to the Impala without even asking if he wanted to drive. They both knew that Baby would be Dean's car once they parted ways so it didn't hurt to start transitioning back now. Sam hadn't yet gotten around to adding Dean to the locking wards on the trunk and glovebox, or simply disabling them entirely, but they wanted to get to the crime scene as fast as possible so it was put off until later.

That was the first time that Dean had really been in the Impala without a concussion or panicking over Sam in almost eighteen months. He was nearly giddy, taking turns a bit too fast while listening to his Baby purr. For a moment he felt a sense of preemptive loss at the realization that that might be the last time he would be rolling down the highway on a case with his brother. He pushed the thought from his mind and tried to focus on enjoying the moment, but he quickly realized that they were missing an important detail.

"We need some music. Can you grab Houses of the Holy?"

Sam cringed at the request. "Sorry. Your music got moved to the trunk. If you pull over—"

"What?" Dean asked a little hurt. "Why'd you throw it in the trunk? I thought you liked it."

"I… I couldn't listen to it after you died. It was too much. We've been using an iPod." Sam pulled it from the glovebox to show its practicality. "It's got some good stuff on it."

"Zepp?"

"No."

Dean's shoulders slumped. "AC/DC?"

After a brief hesitation Sam answered, "No."

Dean threw him an intense what-the-fuck face. "Man, you really have turned dark side." He shook his head while speaking, but Sam appreciated him making light of the greater situation.

"You okay with Iggy & The Stooges or are we pulling over?" Sam offered apologetically.

"Do you have The Stooges?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, you get a pass this time. But we're listening to some real music on the way back."

* * *

They parked across the street from the crime scene, which turned out to be a quaint house with a for-sale sign in its front yard. A small crowd had formed to morbidly speculate as police and medical examiners went about their business. The brothers had crossed the yellow tape line, flashed their badges, and had started to introduce themselves when Jody Mills came out of the house. She spotted Dean and walked over to greet them. She escorted them into the home, which had been cleared upon their arrival. After calling Bobby, she had informed the local police that the feds were send some real assholes that she'd dealt with before and for their own good everyone should give them some space. Once the three of them were alone, she dropped the act of forced politeness in exchange for sincere gratitude.

"Good to see you again, Dean. Wish it was under better circumstances, but at least you might have some idea what the hell we're dealing with." She turned to Sam. "You must be the other one. Sam, right?"

"That's me. Nice to meet you." He shook her hand, but was slightly distracted. There had definitely been demons in the house not too long ago. He could feel their fading presence... and something else. It was wrong, some constricting, decaying power, but it felt slightly familiar. He couldn't place the feeling of deja vu. "I just hope we can help."

"The bodies are in here." She guided them through an entryway into what was the empty living room. It was definitely the same scene from Sam's vision.

Holes had been punched in the ceiling sheetrock allowing the wooden studs above to anchor the nylon ropes which suspended the corpses. There were five bodies in total, three men and two women. All of them were hung upside down by one foot with their arms bound behind their back. The cause of death was obvious from the multiple stab wounds on each of their chests. Blood had dripped down their faces and soaked into the white carpet below. Several feet beyond the bodies was a second set of large, older blood stains, one for each victim.

"That blood looks pretty fresh. Any idea when it happened?" Dean asked Jody.

"They think it was between four and six o'clock. The interesting thing is that the older blood stains to the side there indicate that the vics were killed on the floor, laid there for awhile, then were hung up. The pools under the bodies weren't from bleeding to death; that was just gravity draining them."

Dean examined the older blood stains while Sam crouched down to look at one of the victims' face. It was the woman from his vision. He knew how she had died. He'd watched it. She was almost unrecognizable from the layer of thick, tacky blood that had coated her face. Her eyes were open, resulting in a disgusting appearance from the blood caking on her eyelashes. Sam averted his gaze downward and noticed a strange discoloration on her forehead. Leaning closer he realized that it was a fine carving into the skin.

"Yeah. The medical examiner said there was some sort of carved design on their foreheads," Jody commented. "She didn't want to disrupt the scene by washing the blood off one until all the photos were taken. If you want I can text you the clean image once it's available."

"That'd be great," Dean replied while he looked around the empty living room. "I'm guessing this place'll be on the market for quite awhile after word gets out about this."

"Yeah. This place has been empty for months. It made a nice place for them to have some alone time. The door was busted so we don't have any leads on that front." She leaned against a clean wall, away from the mess. "Hell, we don't even know how many killers we're dealing with. All the vics were bound prior to being killed so it could've been as few as one or two people—or things."

"There were six," Sam said neutrally as he stood up and began looking at the victims' clothing. There was something he was missing and he knew it. He was so distracted by the bodies that Sam didn't notice the look of confusion on Jody's face.

"Sam has a really good sense of intuition about these things," Dean offered as explanation.

"Intuition?" Jody crossed her arms and gave Dean a skeptical look.

"I'm a psychic. That's why Bobby sent me. This morning I saw this happen, or bits of it." Jody grinned at first, thinking that it might be a joke, but realized that the brothers weren't smiling. Dean actually looked annoyed at Sam for telling her. When Sam noticed Dean's expression he shrugged. "Bobby trusts her and she should know what we do if this really is just the beginning of something."

"Beginning?" Jody asked in alarm.

"The killers...there was a leader—white male, maybe 40 years old with short dark hair. He told the people that were with him that they had work to do." Sam looked at the rope and ceiling while he spoke. "He was talking with the victims like he knew them."

"We've only IDed one of the vics so I couldn't tell you what they had in common, but when we get more information I'll let you know."

"The common link could be really minor or bizarre," Dean added. "With sacrifices, or whatever this is, you don't want to restrict yourself to normal, human motives or methods."

"Sacrifices? You mean like throwing someone into a volcano or witches killing goats under a full moon?" Dean glanced at Sam to see his reaction to Jody's witch comment and was surprised to see Sam give a shrug acknowledging that she wasn't wrong. "Fuck. And I thought zombies were bad."

"We don't know that it's a sacrifice. It could be a spell or straight murder." Sam pointed out, trying to expand the scope of possibilities again in Jody's mind.

"This doesn't look like any murder I've ever seen," Jody replied.

"You run with a different crowd than we do," Dean said with a smile.

"Well get your crowd out of my town."

* * *

They recovered Dean's music from the trunk before getting back on the road. After enjoying a few minutes of unbridled horsepower and classic rock, Dean decided to take advantage of the ten remaining minutes that he was guaranteed to have Sam to himself. There were various things he could talk about that he didn't really want to discuss around Ruby, but the thing that stood out in his mind was the way Sam had taken the possibility that their killers might be witches. The night before, it had seemed like every mention of witches had caused Sam to become incredibly defensive. He wanted to know if Sam's new composure was a sign that they were going to really be able to get along again.

"That was a weird way to gank some people," Dean offered up as the beginning of a conversation.

"Yeah. It's weird though. I had this feeling of deja vu, like I'd seen it somewhere before," Sam commented as he stared out the passenger side window.

"Technically, you had." Dean smirked. "You really think that could've been witches?"

"We can't rule it out," Sam said plainly.

"So you didn't see something that seemed particularly witchy?" Dean probed, not too subtly.

"You mean anything I've picked up?" Sam at least gave the idea a moment of serious contemplation before answering, "No."

"I guess I was just surprised you volunteered the idea."

"I'm not going to pretend that all witches are good just because I know some who are. I can put aside my personal biases if it means figuring out what's going on."

"Fair enough." Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel awkwardly. Sam had just shown a level of maturity that made him want to try a little harder. He had grown too and didn't want his little brother to just see him as the same old Dean. He bit his lip trying to plan out what he would say, but then he noticed Sam looking at him in confusion and decided to just go for it. "You know that I wouldn't—I mean, about witches. If they weren't hurting people, then they're sort of like any random person casting a spell—except for the whole demon-soul thing, which is wrong, but obviously I'm not one to talk. And, I mean, the fucked up things they do to animals is seriously not cool. I don't think I could be okay with, like, draining Bambi—seriously, what is with all the bodily fluids? It's just gross—"

"You can stop being diplomatic. I know that when push comes to shove you wouldn't intentionally hurt good people. Last night, I was just…. I've seen a lot of evil in the last year or so, demons and humans. I'm a little defensively offensive at times." Sam looked at his hands resting in his lap for a second, then glanced up at Dean. "Thank you for trying to reassure me that you aren't a complete dick though."

"You're welcome?" Dean's brow furrowed, then he shrugged off Sam's comment.

"Do you think you'd ever considering spending some time around some really nice people, who just happen to be witches?" Sam asked.

Dean chewed his lip for a moment before answering, "I mean, if you end up hiding out with a bunch of witches, then I'll probably break down and visit you. If I can endure Hell for…. I can endure being around a handful of witches for a few hours."

"I doubt it'd be the torture you think. You'd probably have a good time."

Dean laughed dryly. "What could I possibly do for a good time with witches?"

"All sorts of things, but if you end up there I want to see you try this moonshine they make. I wasn't brave or dumb enough to try it, but this one guy, Pascoe, he'd go head-to-head with you at shots in a heartbeat." Sam chuckled to himself at the mental image.

"You seriously think that there's a human on Earth that can beat me at drinking?" Dean remembered that his fortitude was still recovering from his resurrection. "Actually, give me some time to train before you schedule the match."

"You want me to play Eye Of The Tiger?" Sam half-joked while reaching into the glovebox for the iPod.

"No. I'd need a drink first. Once we get back to Bobby's you can put on the training montage theme music."

* * *

When they got back to Bobby's house, Dean went straight for the fridge to grab a beer while humming. Sam found Bobby in his study, handed back the borrowed tie, and looked around the quiet house.

"Where's Ruby?" Sam asked.

"Upstairs. She was complaining about a backache so I told her that there's bathtub in the bigger bathroom. I doubt she'll be down for awhile. The way she reacted, you'd think I cured cancer. So what'd you find?"

"It was definitely from my vision. They were hung up by their feet from the studs in the ceiling—"

"It was pretty messy," Dean added, having returned from the kitchen, beer in hand. "There were a ton of stab wounds and they had their hands tied behind their backs."

"And that carving I was trying to figure out was on their foreheads," Sam continued. "Jody is going to send it to us once they get a cleaned up picture of—"

"Wait." Bobby looked like something was clicking together in his mind. "Were they strung up by one foot or two?"

"One," Sam answered, suddenly realizing just how strange that fact was. It probably would have been easier to secure the bodies to the studs if both ankles had been bound.

"One leg suspended upside-down from wood with the arms behind the back is the hanged man." Sam and Dean both looked confused, causing Bobby to roll his eyes. "From the tarot card deck."

"Well that lends a bit of weight to the witches theory," Dean commented, then glanced sideways at Sam.

Sam didn't argue, only shrugging in acknowledgement of the point. "What about the carving on the forehead? I don't remember seeing that on the cards," Sam countered.

"More recent decks are probably a bit more sanitized than older versions," Bobby theorized. "Let me grab a few books and we'll see if it got revised out along the way."

It didn't take long to find a book containing the history of the deck, but even the earliest recorded versions of the hanged man didn't include the carving. Bobby switched over to investigating which schools of magic actively used tarot cards, while Dean called to check in with Jody. Sam continued reading about the origins of the tarot symbols to try to get a better understanding of the message. After a few minutes, Sam got up and rushed across the study to grab a dusty book on medieval European history. He checked the index, flipped through the pages, and let out a satisfied chuckle. Bobby and Dean both turned their attention to him.

"Get this. The pose doesn't come from the card; the card comes from the pose." Sam smiled a bit while explaining his findings.

"What?" Dean asked as he slipped his phone back in his pocket and fully entered the room.

"The card was based on a way of killing people that was used during the Cathar Crusade in the 13th century. The card was made about a century later and used the positioning of the bodies as a reference. The forehead carving was too detailed to be properly illustrated on a card so it was left out entirely."

"So we aren't dealing with tarot card fanatics. We're looking for European history buffs," Bobby summed up, then discard the goosechase he had been working on.

"Any pattern to the killings back then?" Dean asked.

"Not as far as I can tell with this book. All the victims were soldiers during the Crusade, but people got killed that way on both sides. No pattern is obvious, but I don't know much about the war. I mean this wasn't against Saladin or anything." When Sam noticed Dean looking a bit thrown by the last comment he said, "You should read—you know what, just rent Kingdom of Heaven."

Dean stared at Sam, slightly offended. "Hey. I read books—"

"It's got Liam Neeson in it," Sam interrupted, but Dean didn't object, instead opting to nod thoughtfully.

"It also has Alexander Siddig," Bobby added, earning another expression of confusion from Sam and Dean. "He played Dr. Bashir in Deep Space 9. It was an underrated show…." The old hunter flustered a bit at the realization that he'd just outed himself as a Trekkie, then hastily said, "In any case, I guess it's time we brush up on our Cathar and Crusades history."

* * *

While they were hunkered down researching, Ruby came downstairs to join them. She was clean and bandage free, having almost fully healed. Her blood-soaked shirt had been traded for one of the tops that Bobby gave her. She'd had to cut slits up both sides, but managed to not substantially damage it. A small yawn escaped her as she slowly walked over to the table full of open books. Flipping through a few pages, her sleepy smile turned into a frown and she tilted her head while blinking in surprise.

"Why are you guys researching the Dendrik-Phen War?" she asked. The three men all looked up from their books at her, then looked around at each other to see if anyone knew what she was talking about.

Sam tried to correct her. "Uh, we're researching the Cathar Crusade."

"Yeah. Same war—that's just a human name for it." She eyed an apple that Sam had been slowly eating and picked it up, not realizing that the others were waiting on her for further explanation.

"Wait. Demons have their own names for wars on Earth?" Bobby asked.

"Only the ones we fight in," Ruby said casually, then bit into the apple. The three men were looking at her dumbstruck and she realized just how out of the loop they were. "Oh, for fuck's sake. This is what I get for surrounding myself with humans."

"Demons fought in the Crusades? Are you serious?" Dean exclaimed, tossing his book onto a table, which earned him a glare from Bobby.

"It's not like team Hell was backing a side or anything." Ruby leaned against the desk. "Hell just needed somewhere to have a brawl and a battlefield is a great place for one."

"Ruby, you're going to need to explain this one from the ground up." Sam patted her knee absentmindedly.

"Okay. So Dendrik and Phen were two archdemons way back when. For whatever reason they decided that they wanted to go to war against each other, probably settling some grudge—you know the whole victor-writes-the-history-books thing makes it hard to know the details. Anyway, it's really hard to kill demons in Hell, which makes it a terrible place to have a war. So Den and Phen's armies just popped into the soldiers in a pre-existing human war and went at it. Dendrik's forces won and Phen was killed. That's why it's the Dendrik-Phen War instead of the Phen-Dendrick War."

"You're saying demons possessed humans, just so that they could kill other demons possessing other humans?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Ruby shrugged. She knew it was upsetting from a human perspective, but for a demon it was par for the course.

"But how is it easier to kill demons on Earth?" Bobby asked, trying to understand the practicality of the event... or lack thereof. "The Colt didn't exist back then and your knife doesn't look that old."

"There are other ways to kill demons," she replied. "It just takes a little more effort. I killed a demon the other night, but it took a decent amount of prep. Trust me, if you want something bad enough, you can probably find a way of doing it."

"Did the demons that were topside during the war kill humans too? Maybe mutilate them?" Sam asked, trying to connect their victims to the killings during the Cathar Crusade.

"Probably. Demons can identify each other without too much effort, but I doubt they'd pass up a chance to do some carnage. Why?" She took another bite of the apple.

"We found the mutilated bodies from the vision. They looked like sacrifices and they seem an awful lot like these illustrations," Sam explained, pointing to one of the books she'd been looking at.

Ruby's eyebrows rose. She swallowed dryly and put down the apple. "Those weren't sacrifices; those were demons."

"What?" Sam, Dean, and Bobby asked at the same time.

"That's the traditional way of displaying an enemy demon. It's like a warning." She looked confused. "You said this was in a house?"

"Yeah."

"Well that's not much of a display. They'll probably get bolder. I bet you'll be seeing more strung up in public. Always hung from wood or above holy ground. That made fighting during the crusades a good deal; nearly everywhere was somebody's holy ground back then. You definitely need to have the hands behind the back."

"Is stabbing in the chest part of the routine?" Bobby asked.

"You don't need it for demons to recognize the warning, but it's a common way of killing demons," Ruby explained. "You need to have an iron blade, or one coated in iron flecks, that's magical and then you have to pierce the heart at least three times. It's the easiest way to kill a demon without my knife or the Colt, but it's dangerous against groups and nearly impossible without the demon smoking out first."

"So those demons must've been bound somehow?" Sam mused quietly, half-distracted in thought.

"You can engrave or brand the flesh of the meatsuit with a binding ward or use something topical, like the potion I used or a powder—"

"That's it!" Sam finally understood the sense of deja vu and feeling that something was missing at the crime scene. He'd felt that same bound sensation when he found the demon that Ruby had killed in the abandoned apartment, but in his panic to find her it had barely registered. Also, in his vision the bodies had been sprinkled with a purple metallic powder that wasn't there at the crime scene. "There was something that seemed off about the crime scene. In my vision the bodies had a powder of them, but it wasn't on them when we went there."

"It could've been balsam powder," Ruby guessed. "It fades after about an hour so you need to use it fast, but it's one of the easier binders to locate." She stood up a little straighter, looking jolted more fully awake by some thought. "What did the carving on the forehead look like?"

"Oh, yeah. Jody sent it to me a few minutes ago. Let me pull it up." Dean found the photo and handed her his phone. "Any idea what it means?"

"It should be the sigil of the dead demon's commander." Ruby looked down at the phone, then held onto the side of the desk she was leaning against for stability. "That's Lilith's sigil. Someone declared war on Lilith."


	25. Visions & Foresight

"Someone is gunning for Lilith?" Sam asked almost musingly.

The news was sudden and probably welcome, but he hadn't had time to let it sink in at all. His mind wanted to run through scenarios that he didn't have enough knowledge to justify. They needed more information before he could start feeling optimistic so he pushed the overly-hopeful hypotheticals from his head and tried to give the discussion his full attention.

"Not just 'gunning' and probably not just 'someone,'" Ruby clarified. "Displaying demons like that is huge. I don't even know if anybody has tried it since Den and Phen. When I said 'declared war' I meant it pretty literally. There are definitely gonna be more bodies showing up."

"What do you mean 'not just someone?'" Bobby asked.

"These types of things are only ever led by an archdemon. There's enough of a power difference between an archdemon and even the most powerful lesser demons that it'd be basically suicide to throw down the gauntlet if you weren't an arch. A handful of demons aren't going to pull this without a strong backer."

"So how do we know who to send the thank-you card to?" Dean plopped into an armchair and looked around the room for any suggestions.

"Shola seemed pretty pissed at Lilith," Bobby offered. "You think the Crossroads would try something like this?"

"I don't know." Ruby chewed her lip thoughtfully. "The Crossroads has been anti-Lilith since I was downstairs last time, but this seems a little too direct for them... I wouldn't be surprised if Lilith's team scores a few hits in the next day or two. Then we can see whose sigil gets carved."

"This seems—" Sam started, but couldn't finish.

He clutched his head, tipping forward in his chair, and collapsing over the desk full of books. A few cries of pain escaped him as he writhed, knocking several books to the ground. Ruby tried to put a hand on his shoulder to help keep him stable and offer reassurance, but she stood farther away from him than she would have liked in order to protect the baby from an accidental elbow.

The vision only lasted a few seconds and by the time Bobby and Dean had gotten to him it was over. Sam sunk backward into the chair, still holding his head. His eyes were watery and took in the room with a little difficulty. He groaned, then shut his eyes as he leaned his head back far enough that he would've been staring at the ceiling.

"It was them." Sam spoke in a loud, fatigued whisper. "They killed some more. Maybe three or four? It was hard to tell."

"Any idea where they were?" Dean asked at what he hoped was a quiet enough volume to not hurt his brother. "Maybe we could still catch them if they're in town."

Ruby stepped a little closer to check on Sam, who was trying to hide a grimace of pain under his hands. She reached into his pocket for the aspirin bottle that seemed to have taken up a permanent residence there in the last two weeks. She looked at him for a second trying to gauge how many to give him and settled on just one. He wouldn't be playing fine for Dean or Bobby if he really needed two or three. She returned the bottle to his pocket, then placed the pill into his fingers. He accepted the medicine, popping it in his mouth wordlessly.

"Do we even want to catch them? I mean, they're killing Lilith's demons. I'm kinda liking your idea of a thank-you card," Ruby countered.

Dean's posture straightened with determination and he spoke a little louder. "That was when we didn't have a chance at catching them, but if we have some idea of where these demons are we should go after them. I know this group is going against Lilith, but they're also killing humans."

"First of all, let's be clear: 'we—'" Ruby pointed at Sam and herself, "—aren't going to go sticking our necks out on extracurriculars because of the whole baby-that's-gonna-show-up-in-a-week-or-two thing."

Sam tilted his head and slid his hands down so that he could watch the impending argument. He didn't jump in. He was too tired, pained, and disoriented to start breaking them up…. And honestly he was hoping that Ruby would spare him having to refuse another hunt with his brother. In all fairness, Dean had only opened his mouth to argue, but closed it after a second thought. It looked like he was attempting to smother his expectations that Sam would actually voluntarily going into harm's way again.

"Secondly," Ruby continued while crossing her arms in front of her chest, "even if you found enough hunters to take them, I still don't think it's the right answer. I mean there's a pretty big chance the meatsuits are gonna die whether the demon is killed or is left to ride them into the ground. At least this way there's some good that might come out of it."

"And the ones that could've lived, we're just—I'm just supposed to let them get killed and strung up? How fucked up is that?" Dean was shaking his head in disagreement and frustration. "Killing is one thing, this whole sending-a-message thing…."

She gave a little shrug. "It's a message we want them to send. Lilith's underlings should think twice before putting a target on themselves in her name."

"You said that she's head of the zealots? Are they really going to be fazed by the chance of dying in the line of duty?" Sam asked, finally rejoining the conversation. His soft tone made it clear that he was asking a serious question instead of taking Dean's side.

"Sam, remember the demons in Houston? She's got members of other castes helping her and they didn't seem 100% committed. Maybe some of them will bolt?" Ruby suggested hopefully.

"I don't know. There's something about it all..." Sam sat up more in his chair and rubbed his temples. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Fuck, I hate when you say that."

* * *

The phone range in the kitchen, calling Bobby away to impersonate some middle-ranking officer at some regional office of some federal agency. Dean followed him into the kitchen to see what the call was about. He wanted to continue the conversation about how to deal with the demons, but he had a personal interest in the wellbeing of the hunters within Bobby's network and wanted to know what was happening.

The free wall in the kitchen had been covered with a map of the continental United States and Bobby pushed a yellow thumbtack fully into Lincoln, Nebraska. Yellow meant that a hunter was investigating in the area. The fully-recessed status of the tack meant that there was something ominous about the situation and one of them should call to check in on the hunter within 24 hours. Bobby jotted down the time, location, and hunter's name into the log they kept near the phones, then smiled reassuringly to Dean while finishing up the call.

"Ellen was working a cover in Lincoln. Case sounds like multiple missing persons," Bobby explained to Dean.

"Is Jo with her?" Dean asked with added interest.

"Probably, but I think she's still a little young to pull off being a Fed. She's just—"

Furniture squeaked on the wooden floor, then there was sound of books falling to the ground and Sam crying out in the study. Bobby and Dean ran in to find Sam on the floor behind the desk he had been sitting at holding his head. The heavy desk had been knocked back an impressive three feet and all the books that had survived the first vision had been finally knocked to the ground too. Ruby was kneeling next to Sam's head, holding his shoulders. She didn't bother looking up when they entered; she was busy talking to Sam.

"Come on. You gotta try to stay in control. Don't let it overpower you. Just breathe." Her voice was soothing and confident, like she had experience talking Sam down. That thought made Dean's stomach sink a little.

"Is he alright? What happened?" Bobby asked.

"Vision," Sam whispered without bothering to open his eyes. "More demons. More killings."

"This is bad," Ruby said as she turned to look up at Bobby and Dean. "He hasn't had visions this close together that were this strong before."

"All the more reason to go after those demons." Dean knelt down to check on Sam up-close. "If them killing each other is messing up Sam like this, we should find them and kill them. I don't care if they're fighting Lilith's goons. This can't keep going on."

"They were different, the demons. It was another group." Sam rolled from his side onto his back, then slowly opened his eyes.

"What?"

"There are more of them than the group from the house."

"Where were they?" Dean asked.

"I don't know." Sam started to shake his head slowly, then thought better of it.

Ruby frowned at a thought, then said, "This could be past the point of just finding some demons and killing them. If word has gotten out about this feud, then I don't think we're gonna be able to do much to stop it."

"So what? Sam keeps getting beat up by these visions?" Dean was getting louder and visibly agitated at his inability to improve the situation. "This is the third one related to this crap in less than a day."

"Sam, you're gonna need to try to block these visions out or something. You can't just let them hit you full-force." Ruby's tone was soft, but she was talking to him like he was some sort of underperforming student.

"Give him a break," Dean told her, growing more defensive of his little brother.

"She's right," Sam muttered between his fingers that he had brought up to cover his face.

Dean wanted to stop Sam from giving himself too hard of a time. "It's not like you can control this stuff. Your visions just happen."

"It doesn't matter. I have to figure this out." His fingers raked through his hair, which he pulled down to cover his face. After using his hair to shield his eyes, his arms fell slowly to the floor. He was moving with an almost intoxicated level of exhaustion. "This can't keep getting worse…. We can't stop the demons…. I need to get better at controlling my p—visions."

"First, you need to get some rest, if you can. You look like shit," Dean said as he looked from Ruby to Bobby, who both conceded the point. "At least in a bed you won't fall down."

"He could still fall out of bed," Bobby corrected.

"Just strap him to the bed. He can sleep through that," Ruby suggested, earning an awkward moment of silence from Bobby and Dean.

"It wasn't for sex," Sam mumbled through his face full of hair.

* * *

It took a little doing, but Bobby and Dean managed to get Sam to an upstairs bedroom. Once he was in bed, they strapped him down with three leather belts latched end-to-end across his chest. They didn't bother restraining him further since the goal was only to stop him from rolling out of the bed, not preventing his escape. Ruby volunteered to stay with him for the first stretch while he slept, assuring them that she would yell if there was an emergency.

With Sam settled, Bobby and Dean went back downstairs to catch up on some of the network business. They'd been slacking during the chaotic last few days and needed to get updates from several hunters in the field. More importantly though, they wanted to inform the network of the pending demon-on-demon spats, and needed to come up with a good story for where this information came from that wouldn't expose Sam. With the North Carolina hunters still potentially looking for him, they had to be cautious. The two hunters descended the staircase arguing about what kinds of explanations were believable.

Ruby pulled a chair up next to Sam's bed, positioning it to allow her a view of his face. Watching him sleep while tied to a bed reminded her of their first few weeks working together after Dean's death. She had strapped him down after his suicide attempt. At the time she had been torn between pitying him and being frustrated by the situation. Their current predicament felt very similar, but in their time together since the suicide attempt, she had learned that her faith in Sam was well-placed and that made her a little less worried. He had never tried to control his visions before, but if he could control his other powers maybe there was a chance…. Granted, he was almost completely inept with his telekinesis.

After an hour, Sam shifted slightly and looked over at her. He smiled weakly, then said, "I know I should be used to it by now, but it's weird when you watch me sleep."

"It's not as weird as when you watch me sleep," she countered.

"That's just because you shouldn't sleep."

"I'm not wrong." She reached over onto the nightstand to grab a glass of water. "You thirsty?"

He felt a little silly being waited on, but he accepted the water without complaint. They had taken turns sewing each other up and it was just his turn to be the one laid up in bed again. When he was done drinking, she took back the water glass, returning it to the small table.

"Sam, I know you're worn out, but we need to figure out how you're going to practice controlling your visions." She entered mentor mode. "They're coming faster than ever. If they stay this rough…. You need to see if you can block them out or something…. I'm worried about you."

"It's not just the visions. Lately, I feel like all my powers have been cranked up. I can sense demons after they've left." He hadn't had a chance to tell Ruby about that new discovery. She nodded thoughtfully, trying to add that piece to the picture she was forming in her mind of what his current powers encompassed. "And the whole thing with hitting Dean." He looked away from her in his shame. "I'm honestly more scared of hurting someone else than being hurt myself."

She put her hand on his forearm, then squeezed it in soft reassurance. He was scared and felt guilty about everything that was going on. It was in his nature to take on way more guilt and emotional responsibility than he deserved. She didn't want to make him feel worse by pointing out that he had telekinetically thrown Bobby's heavy desk back several feet during his last vision. Deep down she knew it was probably a bad decision, but Sam knew well enough that he had to get his powers better under control.

"Well, I don't want that either," she agreed in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit. "That's why we're going to figure this out. It's quiet right now—"

"Aside from my splitting-headache-inducing visions."

"Ok, that's true. I meant that we're not running for our lives. That's why now's the time to get a little more control of yourself."

"The visions and the telekinesis hasn't really been something I can control, at least not well. I did sort of feel okay with the telekinesis last night, but that was a fluke." He was caught between doubting himself and trying to build his own confidence.

"Maybe you're finally getting better at it?" Ruby offered, trying to emphasize the more optimistic outlook.

"I don't know. Maybe. It's hard to think about focusing on that with my head killing me from these visions." He seemed strangely resistant all of a sudden, but she continued to press the issue.

"All the more reason to try reining in your powers."

"I don't know about doing that here." He didn't met her eyes and his expression was almost embarrassed.

"You're worried about Bobby and Dean finding out about your other powers, aren't you?"

She realized that she'd hit the nail on the head when he didn't respond for a long while. He knew that he would have to continue training, but he had realized that training one of his powers could quickly reveal the existence of his other ones. The two of them could easily fall into the old mentor-student dynamic again and appear very experienced with that in a way that wouldn't be easily justified. Maybe they could excuse it with her teaching Sam some witchcraft, but it was still dangerous from his perspective.

He finally admitted, "Things are almost good between me and Dean…."

"You think that having other powers is really gonna be the straw that breaks the camel's back?" she asked. "After all the shit that they've been willing to swallow so far—"

"Fine. I'll tell them." Sam took a deep breath and looked around the spare bedroom to try to avoid thinking about the impending confession to Bobby and Dean.

He had stayed in that bedroom countless times as a kid. Nothing in the room had changed, largely due to Bobby's general disregard for maintaining his house after the death of his wife. The upstairs was barely used except for sleeping so it had an even more cluttered and neglected appearance than the first floor. But to Sam it felt cozy and comforting. He looked back at her.

"It has been quiet—like, no-demons-at-the-door quiet," Sam commented.

"Yeah," Ruby agreed. "After the run around last night, I was expecting the alarms to trip within a few hours of getting here. But hey, I guess Lilith's demons that we dodged have their hands full right now."

"I was thinking... if we don't have any demons coming through, if they're really busy messing each other up, it might be a good idea to stay here until the kid's born. It'd be less strain on you and we would have some help. Hell, right now I don't think I'm in much shape to be driving."

"You need to come clean about the powers first," she said while crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You have to be able to work on them without feeling like you need to hide it. And you're right, I wouldn't trust you driving or doing a lot of other things until you get a better handle on these visions. The way you were knocked down last time… I don't think I'd trust you with the kid."

"Yeah…. That makes sense." Sam looked slightly hurt, but nodded in agreement. He knew it would be dangerous for him to hold the baby if he was having visions so strong that he was collapsing. The thought was a stark realization of just how bad things had gotten, but it also made his conviction grow. He was committed to being there for the baby, so he would find a way to make this work.

"So what am I supposed to do?" he sighed, not really expecting Ruby to have all the answers. "I'm supposed to keep the visions out, but I don't know about them until they're already happening. And what, I'm supposed to just block it all out? Aren't we trying to have me look for the other demon's sigil?"

"The second sigil is less important than keeping you in one piece," she reminded him. "As for the blocking it out, how have you dealt with visions in the past?"

"I didn't really try to block them. It was more like I got used to them and they stopped hurting. This is worse though; the visions are stronger."

"Yeah, but you're stronger too." Sam gave her a sidelong glance, but didn't argue. "Are you fighting these visions when you should really be letting them roll off you?"

"Maybe." He had to think about that one a bit. "I guess I am expecting them to hurt, so it makes sense that I'd be extra sensitive to the pain."

"You know how I say that I like that you're a sensitive guy... I didn't mean this sensitive."

He smiled fleetingly at her joke. "Thanks."

"When you have a vision, can you feel it coming on? Like even if it's only a split second warning?"

"Yeah, actually." His eyebrows rose like he hadn't considered that fact before. "There's a flash of light and the real world gets a bit saturated. Then I see and feel the vision. Back when I had them more under control, I could see the real world at the same time and it didn't really hurt. It was more like replaying a bad memory."

"So when you see the next flash, you should try to just let it happen and stay calm. Try to remember that you're stronger than you used to be and let it roll off of you like a bad memory." She had no idea if it would work, but it was the best idea they had so far. "Do you think you can try that?"

"What choice do I have?"

"Don't be such a fucking fatalist." She lightly shoved him. "It's counterproductive. Try to have a little faith in yourself. You'll get the hang of this again. You're just starting out in a higher league; it's understandable that it'll be hard at first. You're gonna be fine."

"Thanks." He smiled up at Ruby, who squeezed his hand. "How long do you think I'll need to wait before I get to practice?"

* * *

A half hour later Sam had another vision. He saw the flash and instinctually braced himself for pain. The dull colors of the room started growing in intensity. He tried to breathe, to stay calm, but it was a challenge. Ruby saw his body tense and grabbed his arm.

"You're fine," she told him. "Just see what it is and let it roll off you."

His face contorted like he was struggling not to react to something. She hoped it was just a gruesome image and not pain. The water glass on the nightstand shook slightly, jerking a couple millimeters one way, then the other. She watched the glass and decided to try something else to sooth and distract Sam. She quickly moved to sit next to him on the bed. With one hand she held his hand to her belly and used her other hand to stroke his cheek.

"You're fine. Just relax. It'll be over in a second. Just let it go." The water glass stopped shaking as his tension eased. He opened his eyes and looked at her with a worn expression, but he smiled slightly.

"I think that was a little better," he whispered.

"You look a little less death-like. Did it hurt?"

"Yeah, but mostly at the beginning." Sam rolled his face so that her hand cupped his jaw, then exhaled slowly. "Definitely need to work on this, but it's a start."

Ruby dragged her thumb across his stubble, then somewhat regretfully removed her hand. He watched in confusion as she started undoing the belt that held him to the bed. She tossed the belts to the floor, then climbed into bed with him. He scooted back to give her space, then wrapped an arm around her.

"I think you need to relax more than you need to worry about fall out of the bed." She dragged the pillow towards her a few inches. "Also, if I'm gonna stay with you through this, I might as well be comfortable."

Over the next ten hours they laid in bed, mostly resting but occasionally being awoken by one of Sam's visions. Ruby would feel him tense next to her, then she would stroke his arm and talk him through it. After the third vision like that, Sam held her to him gently and kissed the back of her neck. The vision hadn't caused nearly as much pain as he'd been experiencing over the last week and he was even able to to split his focus somewhat between the vision and the real world. He fell asleep quickly, face buried in her dark, soft hair.

While Sam was asleep, Dean peeked into the room to see how things were going. Ruby saw him and raised a finger to her lips. He nodded in understanding, then pointed at Sam and shrugged. She gave Dean a thumbs up, which made him smile in relief. He exited, closing the door quietly behind him.

After a few hours, Sam woke up. He tried to get out of bed without jostling the mattress too much on the chance that Ruby was still sleeping, but she wasn't. She turned to look at him as he stood next to the bed rubbing his neck and head.

"I had another vision while I was sleeping."

"You look pretty chipper. Did it hurt?" she asked, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

"A little. Not bad, maybe like a little headache, like when you get dehydrated." Ruby couldn't relate to his metaphor, but didn't bother trying to get a better explanation. "That's only part of why I'm 'chipper' though."

"Oh?" she invited, causing Sam to grin excitedly in a way that made her feel a million times better.

"I saw the other sigil. Time to find out who this other big bad is."


	26. The Changing Seasons

It was the middle of the night, but maintaining normal hours had been abandoned in Bobby's house long ago. Bobby and Dean had been sorting through call logs, when Sam and Ruby came downstairs to the kitchen. Sam offered a quick reassurance that he was handling the visions better, before grabbing a pad of paper and getting to work. After taking a few minutes to sketch out the sigil, Sam tore off a page and handed the paper to Ruby. She stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, rotated it, stared some more, rotated the page a second time, then put down the paper.

"I have no idea who this is." Ruby looked up apologetically. "I hate to ask, but are you sure this is what you saw?"

"Pretty sure. Maybe some of the little details are off." Sam picked up the paper and chewed his lip in mild frustration. "I guess it could have been a bit rounder?"

"That probably wouldn't make a big difference," she guessed.

"How many people do you actually know in Hell?" Bobby asked Ruby in an attempt to reframe their expectations. "I mean, what were the odds that it'd be someone you recognize?"

"This should be an arch, but this doesn't match any of them. None of the living ones." Ruby rubbed her neck while peeking at the drawing again. "It doesn't even match the big up-and-comings, like the most likely demons to next ascend to arch status. Also, I don't recognize it from any history lessons."

"Could we check online? I know we don't have the name, but the image could probably work," Sam suggested.

"We're gonna seriously try to Google Goggles a demonic sigil? That sounds like the beginning of a bad horror movie." Dean clapped his hands together with false enthusiasm and a smile that left unsaid, 'How could that go wrong?'

"Okay, so maybe we shouldn't start with the image. Maybe we can find a list of demons online and go through looking for images one at a time?" Sam didn't look thrilled by the amount of research he had just suggested, but they were low on ideas. Now was not the time to be sweating the grunt work.

"I don't suppose demons have Tinder or Facebook?" Dean smirked.

"No... but actually there is something not too far off that might be useful," Ruby mused. "There's a book that's supposed to chronicle all of the archdemons and higher order demons. It might take some doing, but we might be able to find it in that."

"Where's the book?"

"Hell."

Sam and Bobby both looked at Ruby like her suggestion was a live snake that had just fallen onto the kitchen table. Dean actually scooted his chair backward and stood up while raising his hands in forfeit. She huffed with annoyance at their silent complaints. "We don't need to actually go down and get a physical book. Most of Hell's archives are incorporeal. These sorts of things are like Hell's public record, assuming you're a demon. We can just make a hard copy."

"Let me guess: spell?" Bobby raised a cautiously curious eyebrow.

"It's easy." Ruby reconsidered her statement. "Well, it won't be too difficult. We're gonna need to make a few substitutions, but it shouldn't be too bad."

"What do you need?"

"Bobby, do you have a book that you'd be willing to destroy? The older and bigger the better."

"I'm sure I can find something."

"And where do you keep your spell components? I've got to see if we're missing anything," she explained. "Sam, could you grab anything we still have from the trunk."

Dean helped Sam bring in the supplies from the Impala, while Bobby searched for a book he was willing to sacrifice. Ruby explored various cupboards and desk drawers trying to find all the miscellaneous components he kept randomly strewn throughout the house. When they all had met up again in the study, she organized the components on the desk and counted off items on her fingers. In addition to the normal collection of plants, dried animal parts, and bottles of mysterious contents, there was a glass bowl with a carving knife and dish towel in it.

"You have everything you need?" Sam asked her while fiddling with a small bundle of dried sage.

"Almost." Ruby picked up the knife and the glass bowl. "Dean, you ready to donate a pint to a good cause?"

"What? Fuck no!" Dean took a step back and looked to Sam and Bobby for support.

"Look, the spell calls for a cup of virgin blood, but I can substitute a pint of plain human blood as long as it's fresh. Sam isn't exactly pedigree and I'd much rather take it out of you than Bobby." Ruby casually pointed the knife at Sam and Bobby while talking about them, earning a reflexive step backward from the older hunter. Sam seemed completely unfazed by Ruby playing with a knife, but he looked up from the sage once he realized that the situation had grown slightly tense.

"Ruby, you really need the blood?" Sam asked.

"You guys should just count yourselves lucky that I'm good enough that I only need a pint," she said, a bit indignantly. "I'm just saying, a novice would probably need to straight up drain Dean."

"Seriously? How dark is this spell?" Dean complained, but his look of concern and disapproval was mostly coming from a place of growing reluctant acceptance. Even though he hated everything about the situation, he wasn't going to let Bobby provide the blood if it actually was necessary.

Ruby shrugged. "Sorry to break it to you, but checking a book out of Hell takes a little more than a library card."

* * *

As much as Ruby had been looking forward to using a knife on Dean, she had eventually conceded that tapping a good vein with a needle was just as effective. They only needed the blood, not any theatrics involved in collecting it. His cooperation had been conditioned on Ruby trying to lay off him for awhile, Bobby being the one to tap the vein, and Sam throwing a frozen pie in the oven. Dean didn't say so, but while Sam was at risk of having intense visions he didn't want his little brother holding sharp objects around him. Instead he made a show of needing pie for his impending drop in blood sugar, and Sam was more than happy to make the showing of goodwill.

After the blood was drained and the apple pie was baking, Ruby got to work. The three men stood around the study watching her perform a spell that hadn't been cast in probably several lifetimes. She mixed the dry components in a metal bowl, said a few words, then poured Dean's blood into the mix. The blood hissed on contact with the other ingredients and was quickly absorbed, creating a dark maroon paste. She put the large book, a 300-year-old guide to werewolves, on the cleared desk and opened it to the middle page.

"I'm gonna go black eyes for the next part," she told them. "Don't talk until I tell you it's okay otherwise we have to start over, which means bleeding Dean again. Anything you want to say before I start?"

"Fuck you," Dean offered while clutching the elbow that had provided the blood.

"Anything important?" she asked again, but Sam and Bobby didn't have anything to add.

Ruby blinked her eyes black, then held her left hand over the bowl. She began speaking in a language none of the men recognized. Sam looked over at Bobby and Dean who had both once again taken a step backwards away from her. Their expressions were both uncomfortable, like they wanted to leave the room, but they stood resolute against the impulse. Dean was actually sweating and shaking a little. Sam looked back to Ruby, who had picked up a small knife.

After a few more seconds of speaking, she cut her left palm, causing some blood to trickle into the mixture. The moment her blood touched the maroon paste, the inside of the bowl caught fire. She continued dripping blood into the flames for almost a whole minute. Sam was getting a little worried, but she wrapped her hand in a temporary bandage before he dared intervene. The fire burnt until she finished speaking and then extinguished with her last word. Tipping the bowl upside down, Ruby poured a fine, ashen powder into the inside seam of the book, then closed it gently. After placing her right hand on the book's cover she said a few more words in the strange language. Delicately, she lifted the cover to reveal the first page. She smiled proudly and shifted her eyes back to normal.

"It worked. You guys can talk now."

"What the hell was that?" Dean looked faint and breathed through his mouth, almost panting. "That stuff you were saying."

"That—oh, yeah. Abyssal can be a little rough on human ears." She smiled and tilted her head with a slightly repentant shrug.

"Abyssal?" Sam and Bobby asked at the same time.

"The language of Hell," she explained, then raised an eyebrow at them. "You didn't think we all speak English down there or something?"

Sam looked back at Dean, who had taken a seat on the couch. His posture was recoiled, arms crossed in front of his chest. One of his legs bounced slightly, possibly trying to disguise a tremor.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam asked in the least accusatory voice he could manage.

"Fine. I think the blood loss is just catching up with me," he lied, but nobody called him out of it.

Sam and Bobby approached the desk to see that the original text of the large book had been replaced. The new text was indecipherable in a strange, curvy font that was clearly not based on Latin.

"I guess I won't be adding this to my light reading list," Bobby muttered.

"Yeah. It's all Abyssal. I can skim through and translate any of the good stuff." Ruby flipped two pages in beyond what appeared to be an introduction to what looked like encyclopedia entries. Most of the entries were only two or three inches long and began with an illustration of a sigil. She set the drawing down next to the book and took a seat. "This might take awhile."

* * *

Ruby worked her way through the pages, skimming for the sigil's particular entry or even some reference to it within another entry. It was slow work that was made slower by the fact that she couldn't get help from any of the guys. Bobby and Dean had proved unable to stare at the text for more than a minute before needing to take a long break as far away as reasonably possible.

Sam didn't seem affected by the demonic quality that made Abyssal so unpleasant to humans. The discovery that he wasn't affected had been more unsettling to Bobby and Dean. Sam had started getting used to the idea that having a little demon blood gave him some advantages when dealing with demon-adjacent topics. But Bobby and Dean had only found out about the demon blood at all the night before.

Dean had ended up going for a walk, again. Sam frowned slightly at hearing that he was going for a walk… in the middle of the night… in winter… for the second time in two nights. It seemed that that was going to be his go-to technique for avoiding Sam. Dean had claimed that he needed to get away from the book, but Sam thought Dean's eyes lingered on him before walking out the door. At the time Sam had been standing over the book, completely fine, highlighting one of the major disparities below the surface of their relationship.

In spite of him being unaffected by the Abyssal, Sam was still unable to read it. He could look for the sigil at the beginning of each entry, but that wasn't particularly helpful while Ruby was still trying to look for references in other entries. Instead he opted to occasionally look over her shoulders while rubbing her back. Some of the entries were much longer than average, which Sam would ask about. She would give a little summary of the entry before moving on with her search. Bobby had drifted over a few times when he heard particularly interesting stories, like Cain, but would eventually have to retreat to the other side of the room.

Dean returned after about an hour. His cheeks were rosy from the cold air, and he went straight into the kitchen to grab a beer and slice of pie. Sam followed him in, grabbed a beer in solidarity, then took a seat at the table. Dean eyed him, sensing that he wanted to talk, and sat down next to him.

"Find anything?" Dean asked while throwing his bottle cap into a nearby recycling bin.

"Not yet. Ruby's looking, but it's slow with her being the only one who can read that stuff."

"You can't read demon?" He didn't look at Sam while asking. His attention appeared to be focused on the pie, giving the false sense of nonchalant interest.

"What? No." Sam was slightly offended, but mostly confused by how Dean had gotten to that thought. "Why would you think that?"

"You've been hanging around with demons—"

"I've been hanging around with one demon." Sam corrected, growing a little defensively. "I've been killing demons."

"I just figured since that language didn't bother you, maybe you knew some of it."

"No…. I think it might have to do with the demon blood thing."

"Yeah. That." Dean's eyes rolled as a reflex, but he managed to stop himself from making any larger display. He continued to pick at his pie with telling indifference. Sam watched him and noticed that for as mutilated as the slice had become, Dean hadn't actually taken a bite.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked. "I mean, you took off kind of fast."

"I just needed some air. The blood being drained—"

"Dean, I know you've lost more blood than that and been fine. It was that language." Sam reflected on the way Dean had been panicked-looking during the spell, his disinterest in his favorite food, his hostility over everything even slightly related to Hell. Sam may have skipped taking Psych 101 in college, but it didn't take much to see that Dean was struggling to deal with issues related to Hell. "Do you remember Hell?"

"Some of it," he responded with a blunt honesty that surprised them both.

"Did that, like, trigger some memories?"

Dean sipped his beer. He self-consciously switched his attention to the map on the wall, redirecting the false interest. As much as he tried to play it cool, he could feel Sam staring straight through his guise. His hand steadied a knee that bounced helplessly. He made a mental note that he had to watch that tic. It was obvious that he wasn't fooling Sam so he gave up the act.

"I know that you're okay with Ruby and the magic and the demon stuff, but all this stuff..." Dean shook his head. "I'm trying to be okay, but it's hard. It's really hard. I mean, I'm hunting demons, then we're letting some go. Now they're running around doing who knows what and I'm just supposed to be fine with it when I could've done something to stop it."

"Dean, we didn't know things would escalate so quickly. We don't even know if there was ever a chance to really do anything about it."

"Great. So we feed ourselves some line to make us feel better about doing nothing? We're supposed to be going out and stopping bad guys, not sitting around talkin' philosophy—and doing magic like that!" Dean threw his hand out, gesturing at the study where Ruby was looking over the book. "That was some heavy shit and it's like you don't even care."

"Are you sure that was actually as heavy as you think? Bobby's still in there. Maybe you're just taking this a little too personally. You're too close to this—"

"That's fucking rich." Dean huffed an unamused laugh. "I'm too close to this? Look at you. You're up to your ass in demon."

Sam's lips thinned, but after a moment he replied, "Okay. So maybe I'm too comfortable with demon stuff and you're too sensitive about it."

Dean glowered at being called sensitive. He could feel his teeth grind slightly, then he took what he hoped would be a calming breath. "This is gonna be a thing between us, isn't it?"

"It doesn't have to be. Maybe you can work through some of—"

"Going to Hell? You expect me to fucking go to therapy, make macaroni art about my feelings? That's not gonna happen."

"I'm just saying that maybe eventually you'll get more comfortable with this stuff."

"Hell and all this demon crap?" Dean asked, raising his voice a bit. "Just a thought, but maybe that's the kind of thing you're not supposed to get comfortable with. How is that normal? It's fucked up—" Sam opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. Dean didn't mean for his statement to sound like he was putting Sam down. He was trying to excuse himself for not getting over his own trauma, not telling Sam he was doing something wrong. He knew that Sam didn't choose to have demon blood and even though he disagreed with some of the choices Sam had made, Dean wasn't trying to be a dick about it. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I might not be normal," Sam said, with some audible pain in his voice. "But at least I can sleep at night."

* * *

"I found it!" Ruby yelled excitedly from the study.

Sam and Dean tabled their conversation along with their mostly drunk beers and the razed plate of pie. When they entered, her face was only a few inches from the page, slowly inspecting some detail of the entry. Bobby had dragged a chair next to the desk, but he was careful not to get too close to the unpleasant text. Dean leaned against the far wall from the desk, and Sam went to look over Ruby's shoulder.

"What's it say?" Bobby asked, trying not to sound impatiently eager. He'd been watching her read probably the most interesting book that had ever been in his house for the last hour and the suspense was killing him.

"It's a little weird. There are some words here that I'm not used to…. Let me just double-check something." She held the page and then flipped back to an earlier entry to compare two things. Looking back at the primary entry, she frowned a little. "Weird. There's a word I've never seen. I can give this a shot, but I'm not really getting the full picture on the last bit. So some of the subtlety might be lost in translation."

"Anything's better than nothing," Sam said encouragingly.

"Yeah, well. I'm not sure you're gonna like this." She pointed at the first section of the entry. "It starts off pretty standard. The name is Lucian, but there aren't any gender signifiers. In fact there aren't many signifiers of any sort."

"Signifiers?"

"Gender, age, caste—that kind of stuff usually starts off the entries so you can get an idea who you're dealing with. With this one there's almost no firm description, and I think it's because the entry looks prophetic. It's not some archdemon or big shot that's made the annals. It's one that's going to. There's actually an indicator here that the entry hasn't been edited in... um." Ruby did some quick Hell-to-Earth time conversion calculations. "Maybe 1,200 years or so. It's marked for additional editing upon culmination."

"So we don't actually know any real-time information?" Dean looked thoroughly annoyed. He had lost some blood, endured some demon-speech-induced flashbacks, and possibly pissed off Sam for something that was a millennium out of date.

"Just because it's old, doesn't mean we can afford to throw the book in the fire. If this Lucian demon is really busting out, then you're gonna want to hear this." Ruby began underlining text with her finger and slowly translating the second half of the entry. "'Then with the breaking of iron bands and the falling of the heavens will come Lucian, First of the Second Season, made by the First Light, harbinger of war and Champion of Hell.'"

"That doesn't sound good." Dean's annoyance had turned to concerned interest.

"What was that about 'harbinger of war and Champion of Hell?'" Bobby asked, enthusiasm draining from his face.

"The war part is pretty straight forward; I'm not seeing any subtext in the word choice. But the 'Champion' part is what I was having trouble translating. The word looks like another word we have, 'knight.' It's a rank in Hell, but there haven't been knights out and about in forever. This 'Champion' looks like a rank or some sort of title, but I've never seen it so I'm really just making up the meaning as best as I can."

"So the first part about breaking bands and Heaven falling sounds like the omens predicting Lucian's rise." Bobby speculated.

"It specifies iron bands." She reminded them. "But yeah. Then it goes into descriptive phrases."

"What was that stuff about seasons and being made by light?" Sam was staring intently at the page even though he couldn't understand the writing.

"Yeah…. That's the bad part…." Ruby's voice was a little softer than usual, revealing just how unnerving she found that section.

"Really? I thought the 'harbinger of war and Champion of Hell' was the bad part." Dean smiled sarcastically.

"So 'first of the second' is like…." She paused for a moment to figure out how to explain the concept properly. "Lilith has the title of 'First of the First', which is usually just cut down to 'the First' or 'Lucifer's First'. The story is that she was the first human soul that Lucifer twisted into a demon. It's sometimes called the Dawn of the Season or Age of the Demon. This whole 'First of the Second Season' is like the first of a new age."

"Maybe that's why he's going after Lilith? Out with the old and in with the new?" Sam suggested.

"He or she," Ruby corrected. "I know Lucian is usually a male name for humans, but this entry could be for a female demon."

"So what's that being made from light thing about? It would make them easier to spot." Bobby smirked a little trying to lessen the tension.

"They're not actually made from light. They're made 'by the First Light'." She emphasized the word 'by' to try and imply some meaning that the three humans weren't understanding. "The First Light, otherwise known as the Morning Star."

"Balls." Bobby sighed.

Dean looked around a little confused by the sensation of having heard that phrase somewhere before, but not being able to place it.

"The Morning Star, like Lucifer the Morning Star?" Sam asked, hoping that he was mistaken.

"That's the one." Ruby leaned back in her chair.

"I thought Lucifer wasn't real, or at least was a non-entity?" Months ago, Sam had talked with Ruby about the Luxia caste and their worship of Lucifer, the absent deity. So few demons were old enough to claim to have seen him that his existence had passed into respected legend to all but the most devout demons.

"He is, or was. I don't know what this new creation means. You'd think the Devil coming back would make a bigger splash?" Ruby mused.

"Maybe it has? I've got a map full of demonic omens in the kitchen saying that something is going down," Bobby offered bleakly.

"So worst case scenario: we have some sort of powerful demon, maybe archdemon, crafted by the Devil, beginning a new age, acting as the harbinger of war, and carrying a high rank in Hell," Dean recapped while rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"And I've seen at least fifty demons killing or being killed because of this Lucian in the last day," Sam added dryly.

"You said 'last day,'" Ruby noted, then corrected, "This is actually just the first day."


	27. An Audience with the King

"What are we going to do?" Dean asked.

"What can we do?" Sam replied. "This isn't just some demon hunt anymore. Dad spent over twenty years looking for Azazel. Ruby and I had no luck going after Lilith non-stop for a year. Now there are two archdemons and shit's escalating. What could we even do about this?" Sam looked down at Ruby, who was seated in front of him. "What could you guys even do? I… I can't be running into fights like I used to. I'm sorry, but even if you had a plan I have to sit this out."

"Seriously? This may be the biggest clusterfuck we've ever seen and you're gonna be a benchwarmer?"

Sam wanted to reassure Dean that he'd be there if things became a matter of life and death, but the work of a hunter was always life and death. If he started making exceptions, where would he draw the line? Dean would almost certainly try to bring him in on more hunts, both because he'd miss his little brother and also for the safety net that having a second hunter provided. But as much as Sam wanted to protect Dean, he couldn't go back to hunting and he couldn't give Dean false hope. So he just silently nodded in response.

Dean scratched his head and turned away from him, looking around the study. There was a quiet tension in the room. Bobby looked disappointed by the turn, but he hadn't been expecting that Sam would considering getting back into the fight, no matter how bad things had gotten. He knew perfectly well how stubborn Winchesters could be and Sam had plenty of additional reasons to stick to his guns.

"Whether we have a plan or not, we should at least warn the other hunters about this." Bobby tried to keep the conversation going to prevent the boys from dwelling too long.

"Did you guys come up with an okay alibi for your intel? Because this seems like it'll take a pretty big leap of faith to—" Sam closed his eyes, braced himself subtly against Ruby's shoulder, took a few slow breaths, then regained his focus. Everyone had stopped to watch how he handled what appeared to be a vision. He looked a little tired, but he didn't reach for his head in pain. "More of the same."

"You okay?" Dean asked. He may have felt a little hurt by Sam's continual refusal to help him, but the vision was a stark reminder of all the crap that Sam was having to deal with already.

"Yeah. It's still a bit jarring, but it didn't really hurt much."

"I'm impressed you managed to get those visions under control so quickly. You looked like death yesterday. That's some fast turn around," Bobby observed.

"I've actually gotten pretty good at dealing with that kind of stuff." Sam stood taller and walked around the desk to be closer to Dean. His determination was visible, but non-threatening. "Since teaming up with Ruby, I've kind of redesigned my training and fighting style—"

The first thing the four of them noticed was the high pitched humming sound of multiple alarm spells activating at once. Whirling to look at the front door for an incoming demon attack, they nearly missed the new occupant of the room. After a split second double-take, Sam, Dean, and Bobby all noticed the man, then took defensive stances. Sam reached out with his powers and realized that they were dealing with an incredibly powerful demon.

His meatsuit appeared to be in his middle forties with light skinned, short brown hair, and a mischievous yet relaxed smile on his face. He wore a tailored black suit, black dress shirt, black tie, and carried an unnaturally dark red rose in his coat pocket. The demon wasn't posed to fight. In fact, he was seated in one of the shabby armchairs. With a snap of his fingers the alarms stopped whining. Sam started to move to get between the demon and Ruby, while Bobby and Dean moved forward to attack the newcomer at the slightest provocation.

"Ruby, be a dear and call off your dogs. I'm not here to fight." He spoke with a British accent. The guys all hesitated slightly at his apparent familiarity with Ruby.

"Guys." Her voice wavered momentarily with intimidation. "Back off. He won't fight."

"He could be lying," Dean growled. He had easily concluded that the man was a demon, and after the last few days he was long overdue for beating some demonic ass. The prospect of something tangible to fight was more than welcome. Dean hoped that the demon would turn out to be a disposable little lying shit, but a quick glance back at Ruby's concerned face made his hope dwindle.

"He can't lie." Ruby's tone was unnaturally reserved.

"What?" All three hunters looked stunned. They had never heard of a demon who couldn't lie. Hell, most rookie hunters actually thought that demons only lied.

"It's a condition of my position. Crowley, King of the Crossroads." He held up a glass of scotch to toast them. "Charmed, I'm sure."

* * *

"King?" Sam asked what Bobby and Dean were both wondering.

"Archdemon of the Crossroads caste." Ruby clarified.

"Can I offer anyone a scotch?" Crowley pointed to a cut crystal bottle of amber liquid that sat, along with four matching glasses, on the table next to his chair. "It's a '79 Port Ellen, quite a good year. Bobby? Dean? Sam? ...Ruby?"

Ruby held her belly and bared her teeth at his joke offer, but didn't insult him or object outright.

"What do you want?" Dean asked. He hadn't relaxed a muscle in spite of the archdemon's hospitable appearance.

"Mostly certainty, but ideally, stability." Crowley swirled his drink, took a sip, and continued on with his preamble. "When Lilith started her little campaign on Earth it caused numerous problems in Hell. That's what happens when less experienced and hotter heads get their first grab at power. I tried to make things work, cleaned up her mess as best I could and made a few deals to have her cleaned up as well."

"When you sent me back?" Ruby asked, surprising Dean who had thought Crowley's last statement was only directed at him.

"Among others. But Lilith has turned her little fling on Earth into an all out war in Hell. She made a play for power, and was only barely fought off."

"What did she do?" Ruby leaned forward in her chair, attention rapt.

"She attempted a coup. The Archdemons Zygris, Solinus, Palim, Tyre, and Verity are dead. Denerus and Weller are missing, but presumed alive." Ruby looking horrified at the news. Sam, Dean, and Bobby were all somewhat alarmed, but mostly confused without any context. Crowley recognized their lack of familiarity with the subject and elaborated for them. "Those are—were the more liberal archdemons of Hell. The members of Hell's High Council that help keep Hell quiet, from your perspective. She attempted a coup, and in the process started a civil war."

"What do you mean High Council?" Bobby asked as his body relaxed from his fighting stance.

"Hell is a republic, or oligarchy depending on who you ask, ruled by a council consisting of the archdemons of every caste, fifteen in all," Crowley explained. "Lilith massacred one of our meetings and made a power play in the Pits as well."

"That's why all the demons left?"

"Yes. Everyone was pulled back down for the fight, with the exception of Ruby, who couldn't be located."

Ruby had been staring in shock at the desk in front of her, too distracted in thought to realize that her mouth was slightly open. Hearing her name brought her back into the conversation, but she hadn't really been listening to the last few sentences. She quietly asked, "Verity is dead?"

"Condolences. She was one of the sane ones." Crowley toasted to the late demon's memory, then took another sip of his scotch.

"She was my archdemon," Ruby explained. Her eyes widened as new thoughts crept into her mind. "What's going to happen to her covens? Who's taking over for the Maji?"

"Her covens' fates are on hold until the Maji are done figuring out your next archdemon. Last I heard Morrison was the popular choice," Crowley said, earning a nod of agreement from Ruby. "But on a grander scale you can see where this would be problematic. Hell has split into two sides and our side is temporarily down by roughly two-thirds of its leadership."

"Our side?" Dean frowned, not thrilled by the surprise association.

"Yes. You want my side to win because we prefer to keep Hell a well-oiled machine below the surface instead of letting it spill all over Earth on some daft holy mission."

"What do you mean 'holy mission'?" Sam asked. He and Ruby had known that Lilith was working on something, but never had any real sense of what she had been trying to accomplish. It had always worried him, having only a pinhole view of the big picture.

"Lilith is archdemon to the Luxia caste. They're Hell's version of the extreme religious right. Everything they do is for honor and service of the Devil. Of course whatever big move she's making is based upon the worship of the Devil. And that would also explain how she has won over the other conservative archdemons. She is Lucifer's first demon working to serve the father of all, etcetera and so on. It's easy to see how that would be eaten up."

"What is Lilith even doing?" Sam pressed for intel and desperate confirmation that things weren't as bad as they appeared. "We messed up one of her tasks. She can't get all sixty four."

"For some reason, that hasn't slowed her down. She's still at it. Unfortunately, we do not have any high-ranking Luxia demons who would be able to give more insight." Crowley looked to Ruby. "Verity was working on what the rites could be for, but clearly we suffered a setback with her death. Morrison was assisting her and has taken the lead on continuing her research."

"He should be working with her covens," Ruby suggested. "They might know more than it seems, and as many of the higher Maji who can be rounded up. The more the better."

"It's funny you should mention that. Your little disappearing act and reported antics have raised a few eyebrows. Morrison can't drag you back down while you're hidden. Whether he'd want to or not hasn't come up… yet. But you can bet that it will be discussed."

"Are you threatening me?" she asked with a cold edge that undercut their previously conversational tone.

"Only incidentally. I prefer to think of it as warning you." Crowley rocked his glass of scotch back and forth indicating an unstable state. "I'm not a fan of making oaths of secrecy because with me they are painfully binding— What if there's an emergency and I'm prevented from sending someone to assist you? Scenarios like that make the whole thing so problematic, but how about I accept a limited fiduciary duty to you with the limitation being set by a standard of reasonableness?"

"That has got to be a trap," Dean interjected while rolling his eyes at the jargon.

Ruby, Dean, and Bobby looked to Sam for insight into what the Crossroads demon had just said.

"Maybe?" he told them with a shrug. "What? I haven't taken any law classes in like five years."

"In lay terms, I'll try really hard not to screw Ruby over," Crowley said to reassure them. "It's really not in my interest to cause you problems. Anyway, I have more pressing concerns than helping with Morrison's recruitment drive. I'm working on a more immediate plan to stopping her."

"How are you planning on doing that?" asked Bobby.

"I plan on taking advantage of a small fissure in the conservative base to split it entirely." Crowley set down his glass on the small table next to his chair. He sat up in the armchair, smoothing his suit slightly.

"How are you going to do that?" Sam's voice was hesitant. There was something unsettling about the way Crowley was just giving them so much valuable information.

"By forming an alliance with Lucian."

"You know where Lucian is?" Dean asked as he stepped forward. Politics be damned, he was excited by the possibility of finally finding something he could fight.

"Possibly." Crowley spoke with a mild tension, almost like anticipation.

"Possibly?"

"Right now those Lucian followers aren't actually following anyone's orders. They're making war on Lilith of their own initiative. Lucian hasn't stepped up to claim the title of archdemon, making the search that much harder."

"That doesn't make sense," Bobby added. "If Lucian's around, then why hasn't he or she stepped up to the plate?"

"That's an excellent question." Crowley turned to Sam. "Why haven't you?"

* * *

"Rumor around the watercooler is that you're Lucian." Crowley smiled, taking a little pleasure in getting to deliver the news himself and observe their candid reactions. He poured a bit more scotch into his glass and took a sip while waiting for his audience to process what he'd just said.

"I'm not…." Sam barely managed to form words around the crippling confusion that had filled his head. He wasn't sure how he was going to defend himself against that suggestion, but he was interrupted by Dean who seemed to be in a growing panicked rage.

"Sam's not a demon! He's human!" Dean was shouting in a way that startled everyone, including himself. He knew that Sam was different, but having some asshole call his little brother a demon was too much. He didn't care if the asshole was some archdemon. That was outrageous. Sam wasn't a demon. "Ignoring the fact that our parents were human—salt, iron, holy water—none of that stuff works on him."

"That's the interesting bit." Crowley grinned. "You see, we're getting very close to arguing semantics. What makes a demon a demon and a human a human? Salt, iron, and holy water. You make it sound like being a demon is only about weaknesses. Of course you would; exploiting those weaknesses is your primary function in life. But what about the perks? The strength, the powers, an immunity to some of the things that go bump in the night. Looking at it that way, Sam seems to have an awfully strong resemblance to a demon in possession of a body." He looked intently at Sam. "I take it that you've been using locator spells on demons? Any chance you got a look at one before those delightful wards were put on you?"

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. In the first few month of looking for Lilith, they'd had plenty of chances to look at demon locator maps that had only shown Ruby… but they hadn't used the spell between him getting Ruby's blood in Philadelphia and getting the anti-detection tattoo. It was true that they had used the alarm spell on the way to Portland, but it had been designed to ignore Ruby and if Ruby's blood was what broke some sort of threshold within him would he go unnoticed by the spell as he had when she purged the warehouse?

"Still doesn't change that fact that Sam was born human," Dean objected in his brother's defense.

"So are all demons. We're made, we aren't born—well, not yet." Crowley raised an eyebrow and looked at Ruby briefly before returning his attention to Sam. "You may have been born a human, but Azazel did something to you and what Azazel was most known for was his claim that he had actually spoken to the Devil. So if anyone was going to act on behalf of the First Light to make a demon, it would have been him. All that and then a few demons see you use your powers, and your knocked-up demon girlfriend…. Well, you can see how rumors might have formed."

"That doesn't make sense." Sam swallowed hard and felt a little faint. His heart was pounding more from fear than anger.

"No. Actually, it makes perfectly fine sense, you just don't want to accept it as a possibility." Crowley swirled the remainder of his scotch. His posture softened slightly, no longer reminiscent of a cat playing with a string. Instead he tried to adopt a more sympathetic tone. "Listen, I'm not particularly inclined to believe all this prophecy stuff either, but it's less important what the situation really is than how things are perceived to be. You could be Lucian or not. I'm not even sure if I particularly care and you probably shouldn't either. Those demons Lilith sent after you stopped chasing you because they wouldn't dream of harming Lucian. Imagine what they'd do at your explicit instruction." He paused a beat to let that point sink in before continuing. "You can play ignorant and have a handful of demons fighting Lilith to defend you or you can play the game and get who-knows-how-many demons actively hunting her down."

"I'm not a champion of Hell." Sam's upper lip arched up in an unconscious snarl as he spoke. Crowley's suggestion was insulting and borderline insane.

"I know that and you know that, but the rest of Hell doesn't need to know. All you would have to do is take the title, condemn Lilith's forces, and advocate some points that would be advantageous for us."

"You want me to be your political puppet?" Sam looked like he was going to be sick at the mere thought.

"Those aren't the words I would choose." Crowley shrugged. "But, yes."

"No!" Sam took a few steps closer to Crowley while trying to decide if he was actually insulted enough to fight the archdemon or if he was just making a symbolic gesture. "I'm not going to pretend to be some demon to help you make a power play in Hell."

"Lilith is already making her power play and she has the advantage. The best chance we have at stopping her from bollocksing-up both Hell and Earth is to undercut her base now." Crowley looked to Ruby, hoping that she would be a more receptive audience. "We have the Central District, including the Citadel, but she controls almost all of the Pits. All she has to do is outlast us. We need to hit her before the scales tip too far and we can't recover."

Ruby looked concerned while the rest of his audience just looked bewildered and offended. Crowley huffed softly, finished his scotch in one long gulp, and placed the crystal glass onto the side table. Then he stood from the armchair and straightened his suit again.

"Tell you what. You think about it for a bit. It's a lot to process. I want us to be allies so I'm not going to bother threatening you. But I want you to understand that striking back quickly is critical, certainly for Hell and likely for Earth." Reaching into an interior jacket pocket he withdrew a tiny black box wrapped with a red ribbon that matched the rose in his outer breast pocket. He placed the box and a small metal disc roughly the size of a large coin onto the side table. "I'm prepared to compensate you for your assistance. I'm leaving my calling card in case you change your mind, and the box is a gift for the pup. Don't say Ruby's side of the family never did anything for the kid."

Crowley disappeared.


	28. Coming Clean

An awkward silence filled the house as soon as Crowley left. The suggestion that Sam might by some definitions be a demon, or worse, be Lucian, had thrown them all. Each person fell on a different point of the spectrum of denial. Dean was wholly against the entire idea that his brother could be some sort of demon, no matter how unusual his circumstances seemed. Bobby was resistant, but had to admit that in a certain light some of the evidence sounded convincing. Ruby thought the idea that Sam could be a demon in more than just some small percentage of blood was unnerving, but at that point it wasn't the strangest thing to have happened to them. Lastly, Sam felt the fear and embarrassment indicative of the subconscious thought that there really might be something to the claim.

"He was talking out his ass," Dean said in an attempt to reassure everyone, including himself.

"He wasn't actually saying that you're a…." Bobby couldn't quite bring himself to seriously discuss the possibility of Sam being a demon, under any definition. "He was just saying that some of the demons think you are."

"We all know I'm a little bit demon. He's not entirely wrong." Sam spoke with a slightly defeated tone. "The normal tricks don't work…. How do we even find out? I bet you can't exorcise me."

"Well, that's a thought I never wanted," Dean whispered, looking a little sick.

"Not sure what else we could do to test it." Sam huffed out a humorless chuckle. "I mean, I don't feel like getting stabbed with Ruby's knife."

"Someone could say the c-word and see if you flinch," Ruby suggested, but the guys all looked at her in confusion.

"Cunt?" Dean asked.

"What? No…. Seriously? I thought you were supposed to be hunters? Starts with 'chris,' ends with 'to.' It's like no one ever remembers that's a thing." She rolled her eyes, then jerked forward in her chair and pointed at Dean. "But don't do it around me. It's uncomfortable as hell and I will hit you. I will use this baby as a shield and I will punch you right in the face."

"If she's reacting like that, please don't say it around me." Sam sighed. "I mean, what's it going to prove anyway? We're all trying to prove I'm not a demon, but we don't even know how to define 'demon' and we can't prove a negative even if we had some idea what…. This is so fucked."

"Okay. So things maybe look bad, but Romo Lampkin can't seriously expect you to impersonate some archdemon. What happens when the demons find out you aren't the real deal? What if Lucian really does show up?" Dean countered. "It's insane to think that you should put your life on the line because they're having a some fight in Hell."

"I'm not saying that we get involved, but this isn't just 'some fight in Hell.' It sounds like there is a serious war going on down there. If Lilith really does have the Pits, then things are really screwed," Ruby corrected Dean. The three men looked at her with the collective realization that she had a much better understanding of everything that Crowley had said.

Bobby seized the opportunity to get a better picture of what was happening. "What did he mean by that whole 'Central District' and 'Pits' thing?"

"Central District is like the capital of Hell. It's more metropolitan and where most business gets done. The Pits are what most people think of as Hell, where the souls are tortured and turned into demons. If Crowley and his allied castes are holed up in Central, then they're essentially cut off from the main resource of Hell. Lilith can just wait them out, harvesting human souls from the Pit. The more people she kills up here, the larger her army of demons becomes. Eventually, she'll get a big enough army to take Central by force. Unless something big happens, Lilith is gonna win."

"Do we care?" Dean asked with a genuinely uncertain shrug. "Don't get me wrong, I hate Lilith more than the next guy, but Hell is Hell. What do we care if Lilith gets to wear the crown?"

"Like Crowley said, she's not just going to sit back in Hell. She's working on something up here and with control over the full resources of Hell…." Ruby shook her head, then looked up at Sam with concern. "I'm not saying you do anything. I don't want you getting involved with Hell any more than Dean, but you guys all need to realize that this war in Hell is a big deal. It's not just going to fizzle out downstairs."

"Say she gets all of Hell. How long before she can make our lives up here miserable?" Dean asked.

"Seriously?" Ruby looked at Dean with a disgusted expression. "You wanna kick this one down the road?"

"I'm not suggesting that we hide with our heads in the sand. Last I checked you—" Dean cut himself off by literally biting his tongue. "I just want to know how fucked we are, how fast."

"Things have been crazy for the last month and she only has half of Hell. The whole deal's got to be bad news," Bobby observed.

"The Pits are more like 95% of Hell by area, but if she gets into Central…." Ruby looked genuinely concerned. "That's where all the contracts are kept. That's where huge numbers of curses and hexes take root. That's where the sneakier demons that hunters haven't seen topside in centuries like to reside. Where the hellhounds are bred. Where Hell's worst prisoners are trapped. Where the tombs are…. The Pits might be where Lilith could grow her army, but Central is where she'd get her bombs."

* * *

Ruby's assessment of the situation in Hell had managed to make everyone's bad mood worse. There was a common feeling of helplessness and a general lack of an idea on how to proceed. The entire discussion about Sam pretending to be Lucian felt more and more like an intangible doubt that could only ever be resolved by doing something everyone was adamantly against. The situation in Hell was bleak, but it was beyond their reach and, even if they had something obvious to fight, it was unclear what could be done and who would be in the fight.

Sam didn't want this—nobody wanted it—but yesterday he'd had some small hope that he could have a quiet, simple life. It would have been a little unusual, but he would've been part of a community with the coven. He could've raised his kid in relative peace, probably with Ruby based on the way things had been going between them lately. Maybe Bobby and Dean would even visit occasionally. But the whole Lilith-Lucian thing had put a dark cloud over his hopes, if not dashed them entirely. He could still go to the coven, but if nothing was done about Lilith eventually the situation would catch up with him.

Why couldn't things be simple? Sam wondered what normal people worried about two weeks before their first child's birth. Probably matching tiny linens to the wall color or something like that. In that moment the idea of decorating felt inane, but he had to admit that he hadn't really thought a lot of the baby logistics recently. They had been planning on having the kid as close to the coven as possible without giving away their eventual destination. The coven was equipped to handle a newborn. When they'd visited about a year ago there were two babies and a few young children. But if he and Ruby were going to stay at Bobby's until the baby was born, they'd need supplies. Wasn't that what baby showers were for? His eyes moved to the wrapped box that Crowley had given them, which was far too small to be a carseat.

Grateful for the distraction from their own thoughts, the others watched as Sam walked over to the side table and looked over the objects that Crowley had left. The crystal bottle of scotch and five matching glasses remained. He picked up the small metal talisman, examined it for a few seconds, then slipped it into his pocket before turning his attention to the tiny black box. Cautiously, he untied the red silk ribbon and removed the lid. Inside he found a folded piece of parchment and two half-inch long teardrop-shaped pieces of what looked like black wood resting on a red velvet cushion. He grimaced at the anything-but-normal gift, opened the note, and read it aloud.

"A little protection for the pup. It took a little doing, but they're perfectly safe."

He stared at the two pieces of wood, not recognizing the gift, then handed the box and note to Ruby. She reread the note and looked at the two pieces of wood. She tilted her head in confusion, then flashed her eyes black for a second while looking over the gift. Her mouth formed a silent 'oh.'

"It looks like a syf." She lightly touched one of the pieces, but immediately jerked back in surprise, dropping the box to the floor. Sam, Dean, and Bobby flinched, expecting something dangerous to spring from the box. "It's not gonna explode guys. It just startled me." She gestured at the box indicating for Sam to hand it to her. He carefully picked it up, trying not to touch the contents of the box, and returned it to her.

"What is it?" Sam asked, eyeing the small, black objects warily.

"They're a syf, a demon thing."

"Big surprise," Dean muttered. "What's it do?"

"It doesn't really do anything." Ruby thought for a second, trying to find a decent way to explain it. "Every demon has one. It's like a title—less like 'manager' and more like 'duke,' but every single demon from the top to the bottom has a rank and also caste. Your syf changes as your rank changes. Basically, the idea is that other demons can look at you and know exactly who's in charge and what caste you come from."

"I don't get it; how is that supposed to help protect the kid? What caste is off limits?" Dean asked, inching forward to look at the syf.

"There isn't really a caste that's off limits. It's more that this syf is um… different." She was clearly uncomfortable with her discovery and that worried the others.

"Different how?" Sam asked even though he could tell that he wasn't going to like the answer. The whole interaction with Crowley had been bad news and unpleasant questions—why had he imagined the gift would be anything but trouble?

"It doesn't include a caste, but… I think it's made from the Seat of Hell." Her voice wavered uncertainly and trailed off, but the guys just stared at her blankly. Ruby looked around the room in disbelief that she was surrounded by people who had so little familiarity with the basics of Hell. "It's like the throne, but no one sits on it. Supposedly, the Devil sat there while crafting Hell and ruled from it until he was banished."

"Yeah, that sounds like a great gift for a baby," Dean joked, though he looked disturbed at the thought.

"It's a pretty bold statement really." Ruby turned the box in her hands to examine the syf more closely. Her fixed attention and lightening demeanor revealed how impressed she actually was with the gift. "To most demons that would probably give the kid an untouchable status, or at least make them seriously second-guess attacking. Having a syf that's made from the Seat is as close as I can imagine to sitting on it and that's unheard of."

"None of the archdemons like to kick their feet up in Satan's comfy chair?" Dean asked a little surprised.

"None that have survived. The Seat burns usurpers on contact. That's probably what the note means about them being perfectly safe. Somehow he made the pieces safe…. Maybe once you break a bit off it loses some of the juice?" She began gingerly poking one of the syf with professional curiosity.

Sam leaned closer to look at them. "How do those things even work?"

"They usually aren't corporeal like this—huh. I wonder if the Seat's corporeal?" she mused aloud. "Since these are corporeal, I imagine they'll fade on use. These things aren't meant to be visible all the time. They adorn the head and act like quali."

"Quali? You wanna write us a demonic phrasebook to get us through this explanation?" Dean suggested in mild annoyance.

"Hey, you're the ones asking about demonic stuff. You don't like the lingo, then get ready to be left out of the loop. Just be happy that I'm anglicizing the words—otherwise you'd be getting bad-touched by Abyssal again," Ruby jabbed before turning back to Sam and continuing her explanation. "Anyway, quali are the physical manifestations of supernatural characteristics, like when demons turn our eyes black."

"That's not just your cloud covering up the eyes?" Sam asked, a little embarrassed that after seeing her eyes go black so many times in the last year and a half, he'd never really thought about the mechanics of it.

"No." Ruby looked surprised by the question. "Remember, Lilith has white eyes and black smoke. All Crossroads demons have red eyes, but Crowley is the only one with red smoke. Supposedly, he's quite the showman. It's just an innate magical ability of demons, one of the powers."

"Wait. So you have one of these syf things?"

"Yeah."

"And you can show us or manifest it?" Sam looked at her with an endearing sort of expectancy. On several occasions he had asked about her appearance, both as a human and as a demon, but she had been unable to describe herself in a way that had satisfied his curiosity. Her syf was in some way a potentially visible piece of her identity and the idea of seeing it was incredibly appealing to him on several levels. At the very least, having a visual display of a syf would help him, Dean, and Bobby understand Crowley's gift a little better.

"Give me a second," she said. "I haven't done this in a long time."

Ruby closed her eyes in concentration for a couple seconds. After a few deep breaths, an ornate series of thin, black lines appeared on her forehead. The lines intertwined forming a shape that Sam thought vaguely resembled a bird with its wings spread. The syf almost looked like a tattoo, but it changed in transparency occasionally, almost pulsing. When she opened her eyes, they were black.

"Did it work?" Her eyebrows furrowed, which warped the lines of the syf.

"Uh... yeah." Sam stared candidly at this blatant display of demonic powers that he had never seen before.

"Go back. You were less fugly before," Dean said as he tried to not look at her. He didn't actually think that the syf made her look ugly, but the sight made him uncomfortable. Thinking back he could remember seeing syf on demons while he was in Hell. At the time he hadn't known what they were, but after seeing Ruby that little piece of information clicked into place… and brought painful memories back to the surface.

"Even though syf are technically quali, and can be manifested on Earth, it's almost never done. Demons can spot them without you having to wear them on the outside." She reverted her appearance back to human-looking. "And personally I think it feels a little weird even though it's not draining like using other powers."

Ruby put the lid back onto the tiny box and handed it back to Sam. He decided to stuff it into one of the hex bags he kept in his duffel upstairs. Until they had some idea of what to do with the bizarre gift, it was best that they just keep it hidden. He took a step toward the door when Dean moved in front of him and held up a hand. Dean had been lost in thought for the last few seconds, but the expression on his face told Sam that those thoughts had been troubled.

"That archdemon, he said some other demons saw you use your powers?" Sam could see where Dean was going with this. They were going to have the talk. He took a deep breath and put the little box into his pocket as he readied himself for a potentially delicate and undoubtedly exhausting conversation. "I don't get it. How did they see you having a vision? It just looks like a headache."

"Actually, I don't just have visions." Dean looked irritated yet not entirely surprised. He opened his mouth, but Sam continued. "I was going to tell you. I was trying to explain when he showed up. I should've told you both sooner, I just didn't want you to..."

"To what? Be mad?" Dean tried not to yell, but his voice was raised slightly in a way that made it clear how much restraint he was actually exercising.

"I didn't want you to give up on me." Sam knew that his fears didn't completely excuse him keeping secrets. Ruby was right that in the grand scheme of things, having additional powers probably wouldn't mean that much to Bobby and Dean. Hell, after the conversation with Crowley his powers felt like a single drop in the bucket.

For his part, the exasperation on Dean's face faded slightly. He hated when Sam lied to him, but generally he understood why Sam did it. He didn't want to hurt or scare off his big brother. The idea was a combination of sweet and insulting. Dean swallowed some of his pride and tried to take it in the best light possible. After all, Sam didn't mean to insinuate that he wasn't mature enough to love his little brother no matter what crazy shit came between them. It was just that some days Sam was the dumbest genius Dean knew.

"So what can you do?" Dean asked in as neutral a voice as he could muster.

"Mostly just stuff related to demons," Sam replied. "Sensing them, exorcising, killing—"

"Killing?" Dean repeated as he replayed the word over in his head a few times. "Like psychic-mojo, demon-ganking, mind-bullets killing?"

Sam shifted self-consciously at the characterization. "Well—yeah—I guess— Killing."

"Okay…." The elder Winchester exhaled in surprise while shaking his head slightly. "Anything else?"

"Um… grabbing demons," Sam continued. "Binding them—stuff like that."

"And what's not covered by 'mostly?'" Dean asked while nodding to indicate that he was processing that new information.

"The telekinesis is back." Sam looked most wary about mentioning that power.

"The telekinesis?" Years earlier Sam had told Dean that he'd used telekinesis once before in order to save Dean's life. But to Dean's knowledge Sam hadn't ever used it again. As helpful as it would have been on several occasions, he had actually been glad that Sam hadn't continued using it. Telekinesis was the kind of ability that was most commonly seen used by powerful demons. The thought felt like a crushing realization in light of their conversation with Crowley and he wondered who else was struggling to not connect dots. "I thought that was like a one-time thing."

"Sam can use telekinesis?" Bobby asked, only having heard about it for the first time.

"'Use' is an overstatement." Sam shrugged. "It's been more like a reflex. I don't think I've ever used it intentionally; maybe once or twice. It mostly just happens as a defense mechanism."

One of Dean's eyebrows rose. "Defense mechanism?"

"Like the hunter that was going to shoot the kid when I was in handcuffs. I threw him without really thinking about—" Sam cut himself off. He'd just accidentally walked into a conversational minefield.

"You threw a guy…." Dean became very quiet as his lips thinned. He touched the side of his ribs, which were bruised below his shirts. His eyes briefly flicked over Ruby before returning to Sam. "You were the one that decked me in the alley?"

"I didn't mean to." Sam held up his hands in a gesture of surrender to let Dean know that he wasn't trying to fight. "It just sort of happened."

"You knocked me out cold!" Dean yelled. "I think some of my ribs are cracked! And you're just, 'Oops, my bad.' What the fuck?"

Too much had happened too quickly in the last few hours, which normally would have been more than enough, but finding out that another one of his preconceptions was wrong was so disorienting. Dean could feel the conversation about to be derailed by his surprised outrage.

"You were threatening Ruby and the kid," Sam said in his defense. "I just reacted. It's like a reflex at this point. After all the run-ins we've had—"

"—with hunters," Dean finished. He left unsaid the fact that Sam had killed some of those hunters, probably by accident, but maybe not. How lucky was Dean that his injuries weren't worse?

"I was upset and I hit you. We've both done that before. This was just a different way that I overreacted. Please don't let this be anything more than that, please."

Dean didn't respond at first. He covered his mouth and clenched his eyes for a long while. He was pissed off. It wasn't just the fact that Sam had hit him; it wasn't even the fact that Sam had used some weird powers to hit him. The thing that was most painful was that Sam hadn't told him sooner. They were trying to make things right between them and Sam continued to sit on bombshells.

Dean wheeled and walked out of the room. Sam silently cursed, then followed him upstairs. If Dean had made for an exit Sam wasn't sure whether he would've tried to stop him, but the fact that Dean had just left the room meant that he wasn't beyond interacting with Sam. Bobby shook his head, signaling to Ruby that she shouldn't follow them. The brothers needed to have a heart-to-heart and Dean knew as well as anyone that he couldn't do that in front of Ruby. Sam found Dean in his room, waiting at a mild simmer for the talk. Sam entered and shut the door behind him to reassure Dean that Ruby wouldn't be walking in on any moments of vulnerability.

"The last few days… it's like it just never stops with you." Dean shook his head, while his already wet eyes tried to avoid Sam's. "Around every corner there's some new secret just waiting to…."

"I was going to tell you," Sam repeated in his defense. "I was trying to when Crowley showed up. I know you're putting up with a lot of shit from me, but it's hard for me too. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to think that you'll just decide I'm not worth it anymore?"

"Goddammit, Sam! For as long as I can remember it's been me and you, against all odds and everything. I know that sometimes I can be an ass, but when it comes down to it I'm not going to stop caring about you because you fuck a demon or have weird powers or whatever. What's gonna fuck things up between us is if you won't let me be there for you. I'm not just gonna drop you because things get tough. We're family."

"Dad was—"

"You know what, fuck him!" Dean shook slightly, surprised at his own words, but he meant them. "He was wrong to turn his back on you when things got tough. It was wrong for me to side with him. I'm not talking about being blood; I'm talking about being family. I'm trying to be there for you. I want to be there for you…. I don't want to be the kind of person that can just shut someone out because things are inconvenient. I don't want to be like Dad. But I can't take you sneaking around behind my back like you did to him. I don't want you to be that scared around me."

A few tears rolled down Sam's cheeks as he sat down on Dean's bed. With each new twist and turn that had come in the last few days, one of Sam's biggest fears was that Bobby and Dean would reject him. That's why he had never been able to bring himself to call Bobby after they had buried Dean. He had been scared that every step he had taken into his harsher existence would turn out to be the thing that cost him his sanctuary, his family. But in trying to protect his relationships with censorship, he had only weakened them.

"If we're going to make this work, you've got to be completely honest with me," Dean told him. "No holding back because you don't want to hurt my feelings. Tell me everything thing that I've missed, grave-to-the-cradle." Dean smiled, trying to lighten the mood slightly. "I need to know what's going on with you. I can't take more of these surprises. I shouldn't have to take more."

Sam sat quietly for a moment, unconsciously rubbing his wrist scars. He understood what Dean was saying and it was perfectly reasonable, but the prospect was daunting. Somewhere in the last year or so, Sam had crossed a line that the brothers hadn't really toed while hunting. Sam had killed over a dozen humans—more if you counted all the meatsuits that he couldn't spare. The circumstances had been unfair to him, but he knew that even with each victim being partially justified the overall body count would eventually tip the scales. And the truth was that even though he regretted the need to kill, he never regretted doing what was necessary. He felt guilty. In his mind he needed to in order to remember where the line was even when he had already crossed it.

When he had been fighting with Dean over Ruby and the baby, he had assumed that things with Dean were hopeless. He didn't care if Dean found him cold and cynical. Why would Sam need to explain himself to the kind of person who would threaten his kid? But once they'd both calmed down he began to realize how much his long-lost big brother's acceptance really meant to him and how close it was. The idea of losing Dean because of his own failings had driven him to try to hide them. But now Sam was at risk of losing Dean through sheer cowardice. He would come clean, but he wouldn't do it alone.

"This is a two way road," Sam said, adding his own demands. "You gotta tell me what's going on with you. I'll tell you everything and anything you want to know, but you tell me about Hell."

The tables had been flipped on Dean and now he was the one with the burdensome power of being able to selfishly detonate their relationship. He hated the idea of telling Sam the truth, but he seriously questioned his ability to lie about Hell. Dean knew that he still got twitchy over the subject and Sam knew how to read him better than anyone. Sam wanted to play shrink with him, it was obvious, but the only real way to stop him would be to stubbornly refuse to participate. That would almost certainly be the wrong answer.

"You can't do anything about Hell," Dean muttered.

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't talk about it."

"The things I went through, the torture and feelings…. You can't even understand what it was like. I can't explain because I don't even know the words."

"I might not be able to do anything about the past, but I want to at least know what happened, even if the picture is incomplete or fuzzy." Sam hesitated a moment before adding, "And as for the understanding... Have you thought about talking to Ruby?"

Dean hated that the suggestion made some amount of sense, but at the same time he was so incredibly against the idea. He and Ruby hated each other. Period. He was not going to share his feelings with a stranger, let alone someone like her.

"I'll talk to you, but getting touchy-feely with her? No way, never, not happening."

"Fine," Sam agreed. "But good luck finding another person to talk to who's gone to Hell."

* * *

Castiel had been the second in command of zir garrison until zir superior Anael fell. Zie had taken up zir newly acquired position with ease and the respect of zir subordinates.

The position wasn't glamorous, keeping a vigilant eye on the happenings of Earth. For the most part, the humans were completely unaware of the garrison's presence. There were a few rare occasions when divine intervention would require the taking of vessels, but generally it was a quiet and mundane existence.

Castiel was selected to participate in the mission to save the Righteous Man, but not because of zir rank; zie wasn't even a seraphim. Instead zir value was in zir ability to endure exposure to the impurities of Earth. The other angels that ventured into Hell may have been more powerful, but they had never seen evil or suffering like Castiel had. Zie knew from thousands of years of observation how to steel zirself against true evil.

In the end Castiel was the only angel to survive the mission, but zie returned to Heaven severely wounded. There were many injuries inflicted by demons, but the most concerning was from the Righteous Man himself. Castiel's grace had been touched by a human soul. To zir own surprise, Castiel had lied to zir superiors, stating ignorance as to how the corruption had occurred. The other angels did not doubt zir account. After all, it was unheard of for an angel to intentionally allow zir grace to be touched, let alone lie about something as serious as that.

Upon zir return from Hell, Castiel was removed from duty. The corruption to zir grace made zie weak, not in strength or fortitude, but in purity. There was a fear that the corruption would affect zir judgment and increase the risk of falling. Therefore, zir superiors attempted to rehabilitate the disabled hero of the lower angelic choirs.

After extensive treatment, it was decided that Castiel would return to Earth for a single mission, under the watchful eyes of two siblings. Uriel, zir former subordinate and the current commander of the garrison, as well as the garrison's second in command, Tambriel. Castiel's mission was to accompany zir siblings, observe, and obey.

The hope was that Castiel could prove zirself in spite of unfavorable conditions. Zie would have to be in close proximity to the soul that had corrupted zir grace. If zir obedience to Heaven was at risk of faltering, then this would surely test zir. Castiel suspected that zir actions would be given an incredible level of scrutiny, but zie was not worried. The mission was straight-forward and insignificant compared to the journey into Hell. This would be easy.


	29. Morality & Misnomers

An archdemon had been detected in close proximity to the Righteous Man. He was not under the same level of protection that was afforded to prophets, but some investigation was required. The Righteous Man seemed to have a propensity for getting into dangerous situations that were often disregarded by Heaven as typical, yet an archdemon warranted some real concern. The objective was to assess the situation and resolve any potential threats, though they took their vessels in case violence became necessary.

When the angels arrived at the Singer household, the archdemon known as Crowley had just left. Castiel suggested that their mission was made moot by his absence, but Uriel denied the request to immediately return to Heaven. The archdemon may have left, but there was something unusual occurring in the house and as long as the angels were invisible and incorporeal there was no harm in observing a while longer.

"The woman is clearly a demon and this man does have characteristics of the Abyssal," Uriel commented as he examined Sam. The angels listened to Sam and the others discussing the possibility and extent to which he was a demon. Tambriel and Uriel moved closer to Sam and Ruby, while Castiel kept his distance. Castiel's evaluation appeared to be unexpectedly complicated and he wanted to be as far away from unknown variables as possible. He moved a few feet further from Dean.

"They may be demonic, but Dean Winchester does not appear to be endangered by them," Castiel pointed out, but a few seconds later Ruby threatened to punch Dean in the face. Tambriel and Uriel stared at Castiel pointedly. "I believe that she is unlikely to follow through on that threat and any resulting injury would likely be negligible."

"Her threats might be underwhelming, but he is more concerning." Uriel's eyes narrowed as he watched Sam. "He appears to be quite powerful."

None of the three angels had seen anything quite like him before. Sam was still human in many ways, but in some respects he was unmistakably Abyssal. There was something else that worried Uriel, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"They are so concerned with the fate of Hell," Tambriel commented.

"What do you expect from demons?" Uriel added, dismissing his detailed investigation of Sam and directing his attention to the scene as a whole.

"Their primary interest seems to be largely in the welfare of Earth," Castiel countered, but he didn't bother to discuss the matter in depth. It was noteworthy that the fates of both Hell and Earth were being discussed, but it was not completely unexpected within the context of a mixed group. Castiel's primary concerns were ensuring Dean's safety and observing as much about the situation as possible. He did not need to stretch his imagination to justify the actions of demons.

Tambriel approached Ruby and extended a hand to sense what forces he could. His eyes closed in concentration before he recoiled a few inches. Castiel and Uriel both turned their attention to him in concern.

"The demon, she is pregnant. It is not merely the vessel's state." Tambriel's tone betrayed the discomfort that he felt. "It appears that the child is part demon."

"That does not make sense. Our father has never allowed demons to breed, and there have been no revelations from Joshua. If this is not our father's will…." Castiel mused aloud. "As their creator, only Lucifer would be capable of enabling this sort of advancement, but he is still imprisoned."

It was well-known in Heaven that Lucifer had been trapped in his cage for millennia. To doubt that would be to doubt the power and effectiveness of Heaven. Lucifer had been bound by Michael himself and all of the fallen angels under Lucifer's command had been killed or imprisoned in Heaven.

"Lucifer is still bound. There is another explanation for this." Uriel spoke with a confidence that was partially to reassure his subordinates, but also to demonstrate his absolute faith.

"We should consult with our superiors about the child," Castiel suggested. "This situation is... unsettling."

Uriel looked at Ruby, then at Sam in a silent contemplation that concerned Castiel. It was obvious to Castiel that the situation was beyond their rank. Matters of first impression should have been immediately sent up the chain of command, at least to the higher choirs and possibly even to Raphael or Michael. The amount of thought that Uriel appeared to be giving the child indicated a weighing of options that Castiel only would have found justified under more pressing circumstances.

Uriel's concentration was broken when Sam opened the box to reveal the syf. The three angels immediately became uncomfortable. Tambriel averted his gaze, Castiel stood in contemplative silence, and Uriel scowled. They all knew what the syf was, but none of them were prepared to have the additional surprise loaded onto what should have been a fairly simple mission.

"That should not be here," Tambriel said as he struggled to monitor where the syf was without looking directly at it. "It was cast out from Earth. This is wrong."

"It's blasphemous," Uriel corrected. He walked over to look at the small pieces of black wood and shook his head in disgust. "The perfect work of our father, corrupted by our brother, adulterated by some archdemon, given to these... things."

"They do not understand what they are dealing with. They may yet dispose of it," Castiel offered in a feeble attempt at optimism, but he too felt a sickening sensation. While it was clear that Sam and Ruby recognized the syf's uniqueness, they obviously did not understand its significance, and were unlikely to destroy it without further investigation.

"We could take it and destroy it ourselves," Tambriel suggested.

"We should avoid intervening if possible." Castiel's neutral expression began alluding to a frown.

"What's the problem, Castiel? Are you feeling your illness?" Uriel asked in such an ambiguous tone that Castiel was unsure if he was offering genuine concern or delivering a veiled threat.

"I am unaffected by my condition. I just do not see why we are still here. Dean does not appear to be in imminent danger, and we should inform Heaven about the child and the artifact."

Before Uriel could answer, all three angels heard Sam admit to telekinetically throwing Dean. Castiel experienced fleeting annoyance at the comedic timing of providence.

"He does have three rib fractures," Tambriel commented matter-of-factly as he examined Dean.

"The brother admits that he doesn't have control over these powers. He is dangerous," Uriel said with growing conviction.

"He seems sincere in wanting to resolve this dispute peacefully. He might be a somewhat unpredictable element, but the risk of an immediate problem is minimal. Their confrontation is verbal," Castiel argued, but he felt the credibility of his stance failing.

"And how frequently do experienced killers resolve their conflicts with words?" Uriel's question was rhetorical.

Dean became upset and left the room, quickly followed by Sam. Uriel instructed Tambriel to watch Ruby while he and Castiel followed the brothers upstairs. In Dean's bedroom, the brothers discussed the importance of not keeping secrets while they were covertly watched. Castiel felt a pang of sympathy when Dean expressed frustration at discovering multiple unpleasant surprises. After finally agreeing to come clean with each other, the brothers hugged and dried their eyes before heading back downstairs to reassure Ruby and Bobby that neither brother had been killed.

Uriel and Castiel followed Sam and Dean back down to the study, where Ruby and Bobby were waiting. Ruby had been sitting at the desk, but stood when Sam came in. She looked at him with a concerned expression, but seemed a little comforted by the brothers' close proximity. She put her hands on her belly for a second and smiled at what was almost certainly a kicking sensation. Sam rushed over, eager to feel the movement. Uriel watched that interaction and frowned at some sort of internal decision.

"We need to deal with this, now," Uriel stated.

"What?" Castiel asked in disbelief.

"They're a danger."

"I do not believe that they will harm Dean—" Castiel started, but Uriel cut him off.

"Not everything revolves around your pet."

"He is chosen by our father. You should treat him with respect." Castiel raised his voice slightly, but he continued to stand at respectful attention to Uriel.

"He is still human. I remember his place, as I remember my own. Brother, you would do well to remember yours." Uriel's tone was blatantly threatening.

Probably the most fundamental principle ingrained in all angels was the instruction to obey one's superiors, but there had never been an edict from Heaven stating that angels should respect humans. Humans were to be watched over and protected, but they were a lesser order of beings. Their judgment, comfort, and preferences carried no weight to an angel without being specifically elevated by divine order.

Castiel knew that he no longer had any authority over Uriel, but his brother's disrespectful comments toward Dean were disturbing. Dean might be human, but he was important. He was the Righteous Man, a designation given to him through the will of God. It was true that Castiel had not been informed what the title entailed, but it had been vital to save him from Hell. He had been Castiel's charge once before and he continued to be the angel's concern, not just as a matter of physical safety but also general wellbeing. And if there was one thing that Castiel had learned from observing Dean's interactions with his brother upstairs, it was that his little brother meant a great deal to him.

"This is not your decision to make," Uriel said before taking a few steps toward Sam.

Castiel looked to Tambriel for solidarity, but found none. The angels were still hidden from normal perception, providing Uriel an opportunity to attack without warning. Castiel did not want to be insubordinate, but he could not bring himself to allow the unfair act… and he reassured himself that revealing their presence was not technically disobeying an order.

* * *

Without any explanation, three men appeared in the study. One was a large black man with a shaved head in a grey suit and purple dress shirt. Another was a lanky, blonde man in a brown tweed suit. The last was a fair-skinned man with nearly-black hair and bright, blue eyes in a dark, blue suit and a tan trench coat. The man in the trench coat was clearly upset at the black man, who seemed rather put out about something.

"Castiel, you shouldn't have done that."

"They deserve a chance to clarify the situation," the man in the trench coat replied.

Bobby and Dean both began looking for weapons as soon as the men had appeared. Dean found a pistol within arm's reach, grabbed it and aimed at the closest intruder, the blonde man. The demon alarms had failed to go off. Dean hoped that was because the intruders were something vulnerable to bullets, and not because Crowley had simply disabled it altogether.

"Hey, asshats! You better start explaining who you are and what you're doing here!" Dean yelled, but none of the intruders appeared to be remotely concerned by his actions. In fact, they seemed to largely ignore him.

Sam reached out with his mind, but realized with alarm that they weren't demons. While Dean's pistol and yelling had done nothing to draw the intruders' attention, Sam's ineffective use of powers was somehow noticed by all three. Castiel looked bothered by the gesture, but the other two appeared to be a strange combination of annoyed and vindicated.

"Your little demon tricks don't work on angels," the man in the grey suit told him.

Sam, Bobby, and Dean exchanged looks of growing concern. No one knew exactly what to make of the statement. They all knew abstractly what angels were, but no one had ever proven that they existed, let alone provided accounts of what they were like. Ruby silently stepped backward, away from the men who claimed to be angels. Noticing her subtle retreat, Sam slowly started moving to stand in front of Ruby. He glanced over at Bobby and Dean, who seemed to appreciate her fear that the men might actually be angels.

"Uriel, we should go," Castiel said in a strangely neutral tone that disguised his plea as a simple suggestion.

"Our mission is to assess and resolve threats," Uriel replied.

"Threats?" Sam asked, but the angels ignored him.

"These demons are not our concern. They are not even within the contemplation of our mission," Castiel argued. The mention of demons suddenly clarified and worsened the situation. Sam could feel Ruby grip onto the back of his shirt anxiously.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Sam threw up his hands in a gesture of non-hostility. "Ruby isn't a threat. She's good. She's on your side."

The angels looked at him in apparent recognition of his words, but their expressions were largely unmoved. Castiel was proximately sympathetic, but Tambriel and Uriel barely even blinked.

"You think that this is about good and evil?" Uriel asked. Castiel looked to Uriel, unsure of whether an appeal to abstract concepts of morality would make any difference.

"But... you're angels," Sam said quietly in confusion.

"And?"

It was like all the air had been sucked from the room. Sam's heart was pounding. His mouth was suddenly too dry to speak, but he couldn't even think of the words to say if he'd been able. There were three things that claimed to be angels, two of which were eyeing Ruby menacingly. His side had no idea how to fight an angel, let alone defend against one, which meant that their best hope was to talk their way out of the situation. But the angel's complete indifference to the fact that Ruby was a good demon was crushing.

"Uriel, they are not threats to the Righ—" Castiel began.

Uriel turned slightly to give his subordinate more of his attention. "You think this is about one man? Your judgment truly is impaired. If you cannot see the seriousness of this situation, then your illness is worse than we thought."

Castiel seemed thrown by Uriel's words. He didn't understand what Uriel was arguing and that made him falter. "This... is wrong…. The mother is questionable, but the child and father have souls."

Dean kept the pistol aimed at Tambriel, but spared a worried glance at Sam. Sam looked back in anguish, apparently also catching the comment about the 'father' being lumped into the discussion of 'demons,' though neither brother wanted to interrupt the angels' conversation as long as Castiel was trying to talk the others down.

"And you would let the demons use that against us?" Uriel countered. "War is coming. I know you can feel it. Many of our brothers and sisters will see combat for the first time. You are an honored soldier, but hesitate because of a soul. What do you think our young siblings would do? They will hesitate and be left vulnerable."

"Then they would hesitate for good reason." Castiel's voice was raised and his body tensed.

"And they would die. I will not allow it."

Castiel looked at each of the occupants of the room in turn, then circled around to stand between Sam and Uriel. He faced Uriel with regret. The fear that other angels would refuse to kill a demon with a soul was real; Castiel was proving that himself. But the question remained whether a demon with a soul would exploit that sort of weakness. At the moment, the threat was limited to Sam and some unborn child, but it was unclear how widespread the situation could potentially become. Castiel had faith that Sam would only kill an angel in defense. Sam's belief in some affiliation between angels and goodness supported that faith. Yet Uriel was not thinking of just one person, or one demon, or one soul. Uriel wanted to end the moral conflict before it grew into a more systemic problem, and possibly with demons more prepared to fight back.

"Brother, you followed my judgment and command for millennia." Castiel's face was intent, but he spoke with a quieter, pleading tone.

"But you are no longer in command." Uriel's voice softened slightly. When it came down to it he did not like how events were unfolding anymore than Castiel. "You are too weak to defeat us. If you stand down now, I will ask that instead of punishment you receive further rehabilitation."

Castiel frowned with disappointment for a moment, but he was resolute. A long, silver, three-sided blade fell from his sleeve into his hand, which he immediately raised, adopting a defensive stance. Without taking his eyes off Uriel or Tambriel, Castiel turned his head slightly toward Sam and Ruby.

"Don't let them touch your head or torso."

"So be it," said Uriel.


	30. White Light & Charcoal Wings

Uriel and Tambriel drew their angel blades and charged at Castiel, who parried Uriel's attack and dodged Tambriel's swing. Dean unloaded his pistol's entire magazine into Tambriel, only earning him a quick look of annoyance from the blonde angel. Sam wavered between physically joining in the fight or trying to maintain a defensive position between the angels and Ruby. He tried using his powers on Uriel again, but it didn't seem to have any effect. Dean threw the empty pistol at the angel in frustration, but it only thudded against his chest unceremoniously before falling to the ground. He didn't even have time to roll his eyes; he ran to a nearby cabinet looking for another weapon. He found a large hunting knife, which would have to do.

Castiel landed a glancing blow on Uriel's arm, then swung his blade toward Tambriel, who barely avoided a lethal hit. Instead, Tambriel's chest was slashed and he stumbled back a step. He recovered immediately, then turned to strike again at Castiel. Uriel circled around to flank Castiel, leaving him almost no room to move and forcing him to block Tambriel's attack instead of dodging it. Tambriel and Castiel's blades locked briefly on their negligible hilts, leaving Castiel further exposed. Uriel stabbed him in the back, above his left shoulder blade. In Castiel's moment of shock, Tambriel forced their blades downward, stabbing Castiel in the abdomen. Tambriel withdrew his blade as Castiel turned to face Uriel and collapsed to his knees.

"We'll deal with you later," Uriel said before clutching Castiel's throat and throwing him through the ceiling into the room above. Uriel's blade was still imbedded in Castiel when he was thrown from the room, but Tambriel remained armed.

With the one angel that had been helping them taken out of the fight, the plan instantly became to defend and retreat as quickly as possible. Sam and Dean shared the same anxious look that they had exchanged before dozens of ominous fights. Ruby moved closer to Bobby, who gestured for her to come with him. Bobby tried to position himself between her and the angels while hurrying her to the nearby double doors. Their exit was lost when Uriel waved a hand, causing the doors to close and seal.

Having no better idea of how to fight angels, Dean rushed Tambriel with the knife. The angel staggered backward and parried Dean's attack, but he didn't counterattack. Instead he looked to Uriel uncertainly. The human Tambriel was supposed to be protecting was attacking him and even though Dean didn't have the means to kill him, he was turning into a frustrating distraction.

"Just be careful," Uriel told Tambriel as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

Bobby struggled with the door handles for a second before looking for something to help him break through the weak points of the wooden doors. Having lost their quick escape route, Ruby tried to take cover as best she could while staying close to the doors. She didn't have any spell components on hand, but she started whispering an incantation while Bobby began bashing one of the doors with a chair.

Uriel turned his attention to the non-menacing figures of Ruby and Bobby, but paused. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Sam, who was holding up his right hand. At first the angel thought it was a gesture of non-resistance, but then he realized that Sam looked like he was struggling. Uriel laughed at the realization that Sam was still trying to use his powers.

"I told you, demon powers don't work on angels."

"Yeah. Got it," Sam said as a little blood trickled from one of his nostrils.

The heavy, wooden desk between Sam and Uriel flew at the angel. Uriel's eyes widened as he held up a hand, stopping the desk just a few inches from hitting him. Uriel immediately hurled the desk back at Sam, who instinctively threw up his arms to brace for impact. About a foot in front of him, the desk hit an unseen barrier and splintered outward along the invisible plane. Everyone stopped what they were doing, momentarily distracted by the telekinetic stalemate, including Sam and Uriel.

"Sam, door!" Bobby yelled, interrupting the stupor. Sam turned to try blasting open the doors when he felt a huge impact on his left side. He managed to counter it and stop himself from being slammed into the wall. More blood trickled from Sam's nose and he huffed his breath out his mouth, spraying a few drops through the air. Uriel smiled at the realization that using telekinesis was straining to Sam.

"You think you're clever because you know a few tricks? Yes, you can throw things, but I can throw them too. Let's see just how much you can handle." Uriel hurled a bookcase at Sam, which he barely managed to redirect to be embedded several inches into the wall. Then the glass windows behind Uriel shattered inward, launching shards of glass at Ruby and Bobby. Sam was able to get up a barrier, which pulverized the glass to sand, but using those higher-difficulty powers so much was taking its toll.

Dean landed two hits on Tambriel, without obvious effect, then was knocked down with a reserved kick to the chest. He landed hard and felt his already-fractured ribs reel from the impact. The stabbing, hot pain extending through his ribs and into his lung made it hard for him to catch his breath, but adrenaline got him back on his feet. Dean watched the onslaught of broken glass and made to run for Uriel. He tried to evade the blonde angel, but Tambriel kicked the side of his left leg, breaking his knee with a loud, low pop. Dean almost fell to the ground, but scrambled with his hands and pushed off the floor with his right leg trying to continue forward. Tambriel knocked him to the ground with an elbow to the back, which emitted the crack of another broken bone.

Lying on the ground, Dean panted shallowly, his heart pounding. After a dizzying moment he noticed that he felt strangely cold. He recognized that he was going into shock, but pushed the thought from his mind. Still clutching the knife in his right hand, he started dragging himself toward Uriel. Part of him knew that the knife would likely be as ineffective against the lead angel as it was against the subordinate one, but he didn't have the time or mental composure to come up with a better plan.

Sam swayed briefly before Uriel knocked him backward a few feet. He spat even more blood and a tooth onto the ground, but regained a defensive posture. He and Dean had each been distracting one of the angels while Bobby tried to make a way out for them. But Dean had just been downed and if Sam couldn't hold up his end of the fight—and probably more—then Bobby and Ruby would be left vulnerable. Luckily, relatively speaking, Uriel seemed to be finding validation in proving that he was more powerful than Sam.

Uriel smiled and started walking towards him, but Sam tried to push the angel away. The effect was that Uriel only progressed an inch or two per step. Uriel leaned in with new focus and Sam realized that while he was keeping Uriel a constant distance from himself, he was actually being pushed backward for every inch the angel advanced. With the wall slowly coming up behind him, Sam struggled to push back against Uriel. He thought his heart would burst from the effort, but Sam lunged forward in a sudden burst of power that knocked the wind out of him.

Uriel was hit hard, flew back several feet, and fell to the ground. Sam pitched forward, but stopped himself from falling down entirely. He braced his hands on his knees while trying to catch his breath. Sam felt his hope flicker out when he realized that Tambriel had turn his attention away from Dean, who was laid out on the floor with a visibly broken leg and foreboding tremors. Tambriel took a step toward Sam, but Dean grabbed the angel's legs in his left arm and started stabbing wildly with his right. The overall effect of Dean's attack wasn't substantively harmful, but it did prove a large enough nuisance to stop Tambriel from immediately going after Sam.

With a few seconds free from assault Sam turned his focus to helping Bobby bust down the doors. As Sam got ready to try breaking a door, a wave of force spread through the room hitting Sam, Ruby, and Bobby. Sam toppled over, then feebly got back up to his knees. Ruby was thrown into Bobby, who helped cushion her impact, but he was knocked unconscious when his head collided loudly with the doorframe. Uriel regained his footing and gestured at Ruby. Sam reached out to shield her, but Uriel had feigned. Sam flew up and to his left, straight into the fireplace. His upper back and head hit the stone mantle with an audible crack. For a painfully long second Sam couldn't see anything and he lost all sense of direction.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, but his voice broke as Tambriel knelt down on his fractured rib cage to subdue him. The angel broke three of Dean's fingers prying the knife from his hand and tossed it to the side. Thanks to his injuries and the supernaturally strong arms restraining his upper body, Dean couldn't do much of anything apart from watching helplessly as Uriel raised his hand, telekinetically dragging Sam up the wall.

"Let them go!" Ruby yelled. She was standing alone, turned awkwardly to one side leaning against the far wall. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes were black. Uriel looked around the room, confused by her seeming confidence. Bobby was knocked out, Tambriel had immobilized Dean, and Sam was barely conscious.

"You really think you're in a position to be making demands? He had real power and look at him." Uriel grinned as he clenched his fist causing Sam to groan in pain. "You're just a middle-rate demon."

"I'm also a witch."

From his position on the floor, Dean could see that a little blood was trickling down the wall behind her belly.

"You think that one witch is a match for two angels?"

"No, but one witch is a match for two humans." Ruby slapped one bleeding hand onto a bloody symbol she had drawn onto the wall behind her belly. She said a keyword, then raised her bleeding hand at Uriel.

Uriel looked confused for a moment, then started convulsing. He coughed up blood and his flesh began to fester. Large ulcers formed on his exposed skin, some of which emitted bright whitish-blue light. Dean and Tambriel both watched, unmoving from shock, as Uriel struggled to keep his vessel in one piece. Uriel's grip on Sam faltered slightly, but didn't fail. Still holding her bloody hand toward Uriel, she started reciting another incantation and looked at Tambriel. The unharmed angel inhaled sharply in pain, then started to get up, but Dean kept wrestling with his ankles.

While her attention was divided, Uriel was able to compose himself enough to telekinetically hurl a fireplace poker at Ruby. She managed to partially dodge, but the poker impaled her upper chest, pinning her to the wall. She gurgled wet screams that drowned out the hissing of the iron poker burning her flesh. Trying to pull it out proved too difficult when she realized how much force and time it would take to remove it. The poker prevented her from collapsing to the floor, but she sunk slightly as if she might pass out.

With Ruby no longer channeling the spell against Uriel, he quickly returned his attention to Sam. Sam struggled against the force holding him to the wall, but he was incredibly disoriented from the hit to the head. Uriel dragged him up the remainder of the wall and onto the ceiling. A few red smears on the wallpaper indicated that he was bleeding, probably from the back of his head. Sam tried to use his powers to pull the poker out of Ruby, but when he reached out Uriel made a sweeping motion. He rolled across the ceiling as he would have if he had been kicked across a floor. Then Uriel thrust his hand up, causing the unseen force to press Sam into the ceiling. The plaster cracked around him. He started to scream, but couldn't after a rapid succession of breaking bones. It hurt too much to move his ribs, so he was involuntarily holding his breath.

With a smirk, Uriel released Sam, letting his body drop onto the floor. He landed on his back, eyes barely open. Blood began spotting and staining his clothes as impact cuts became apparent. His head hardly moved, but his eyes rolled in sockets that began to swell from fractures, searching for the source of Ruby's cries.

Uriel knelt down next to Sam. The angel leaned forward, reaching out to place his palm on his forehead. Sam's heart was pounding painfully and his lungs burned. He could hardly tell which direction was up, but he knew that if Uriel laid a hand on him he was dead. Worse than that, Ruby and the baby would almost certainly be killed, possibly Dean and Bobby too. Sam didn't know what to do; all he could think of was needing to stop Uriel. He lifted his hand as Uriel leaned forward. He touched the angel's chest and pushed weakly.

The contact was minor, but profound. Uriel arched backwards, throwing open his arms. The angel screamed briefly, but the sound was nothing compared to the brilliant white light that emanated from his eyes and mouth. The charcoal grey scorching of massive feathery wings marked the wall and window fixtures behind Uriel as his body fell to the floor beside Sam.

Tambriel released Dean, stood up, and looked around the room, unnerved by the unexpected development. The angel was the only person not immobilized from injuries and the only one that was armed. He gripped his angel blade, then began to rush Sam. Dean tried to trip the angel, but missed thanks to his multiple types of shock.

Castiel jumped down through the hole in the ceiling, tackling Tambriel to the floor. Castiel plunged his blade down through the base of the blonde angel's neck into his chest. Tambriel twitched spastically for a second before light flashed in his eyes and mouth. A crumpled pair of scorched wings marked the floor below him.

* * *

Castiel weakly stood up as he looked around the room to assess the situation. Knowing that there wasn't much time before more angels arrived, he decided to only provide triage. He staggered over to Sam and laid a hand on his chest.

"Stay away from him!" Dean shouted at Castiel, but his voice was uncertain. He was terrified for his little brother. That may have been the angel that had been trying to help them, but Dean's instincts were to protect Sam from any unknown.

"I am healing him," Castiel explained. After a moment, the cuts and bruises on Sam had disappeared, but he fell unconscious. When Castiel stood up, Dean became concerned anew.

"What's wrong? Why isn't he awake?" Dean tried to drag himself closer his little brother, but found it difficult with two dead angels in between them.

"It is best that he is not awake. His injuries would continue to cause him considerable pain," Castiel answered as he approached Ruby. Dean was about to argue with the angel, but then he noticed how much it looked like Ruby was in need of urgent help.

She was very pale from blood loss and only whimpered when Castiel reached out. Her hands tried to cross in front of her belly in a feeble attempt to protect the baby, but the poker was located in the middle of her core muscles that controlled her right arm. The iron hissed against her as she wriggled in an attempt to get away from the angel.

"I will not hurt you," Castiel said.

With a firm jerk, he snapped off the handle of the poker and slid Ruby off the half-inch wide cast iron bar. She would have immediately fallen to the ground, but he caught her, then lowered her down gently. He touched the gaping wound in her chest, healing it. As soon as she was whole again, Ruby recoiled away from the angel, arms wrapped defensibly around her belly. She crawled to Sam's side without taking her eyes off of Castiel.

The angel looked at Bobby, but decided the old hunter's injuries were minor enough to not require immediate treatment. He proceeded to Dean, knelt down, and extended his hand. Dean grabbed Castiel's wrist just an inch or two short of completing the healing contact.

"Finish healing Sam," Dean pleaded.

"He's stable for now," Castiel replied as he laid his free hand on Dean, healing him. Compared to moments before Dean felt incredible. The shock had brought him to the edge of passing out, but having that instantaneously removed made him feel like he'd just gotten back from a long-overdue vacation. Unfortunately, the angel next to him looked incredibly fatigued after all the healing and suffering his own injuries. Dean released his grip on Castiel, allowing him to sit down on the floor to try to regain some strength. "I needed to reserve some of my power."

"For what?" Dean asked.

"To get us out of here." The angel closed his eyes in concentration.

There was a moment of darkness, followed by a strange falling sensation, then the room changed. The group was no longer in Bobby's study. Instead the room around them appeared to be the communal living space of a decrepit apartment. One of the first things Dean noticed was that the humidity and temperature increased significantly. They had just traveled at least a thousand miles.

Castiel teetered briefly before falling onto his side while clutching his chest. He coughed, causing blood to leak out of his mouth and two stab wounds. His bright blue eyes seemed a little dimmer and less focused. Dean tried applying pressure to the stab wounds, but Castiel shook his head.

"When they realize what has happened, Heaven will look for us. Do not waste time." Castiel pushed Dean's hands away from his wounds, then dipped two fingers into one of the bloody gouges. With the blood-coated fingers he started drawing a ward made from his own blood. "To hide us…. You need to put this on the walls…. One each: north, south, east, west…. In blood—not demon blood."

Castiel reached into his trench coat and withdrew the two angel blades. He passed out while sliding one across the dirty linoleum floor to Dean. Dean took one of the angel blades, cut his arm, and ran to put up the wards. It only took him a few minutes to get the blood wards up, but he had been working in such a flurry that by the end he was utterly winded. When he finished, he moved to return the blade to Castiel, but decided to stay within arm's length of the weapon. Sitting down on the floor next to the injured angel, Dean rubbed his tired eyes and looked around the room. Bobby, Castiel, and Sam were laying on the floor, unconscious, in unknown states.

Ruby had been sitting next to Sam while Dean was putting up the wards. She didn't have a readily available source of blood with which to paint the wards so she had decided to stay with Sam. One of her hands held his wrist, monitoring his weak pulse, while the other clutched her belly. She was shaking slightly, but not from cold or blood loss. When Dean returned after putting up the last ward, she looked over at him and they shared yet another unpleasant realization:

It was just the two of them.


	31. Recovery & Reconciliation

Dean and Ruby looked at each other from across the dank and disheveled room. Completely independent from everything that had just happened and the varying levels of concern that they both felt for the three unconscious men in the room, they were miserable being stuck alone together. Their instincts were to fight each other. The presence of Sam or even Bobby was usually enough to quell that urge, but now there was no chaperone to break up a fight.

Yet there was a very real possibility that Sam, Bobby, and the angel would need their help or protection while recovering, and that would require the two of them to at least tolerate each other. Neither of them were dumb, no matter how crass or uneducated they might occasionally come off. They both knew that their cooperation could make the difference between life and death depending on the next minutes… hours… maybe days. But even though they understood that, it didn't mean that they liked the situation. Having to work together was just the icing on the tortuous cake.

"Sam once asked me if I believed in Heaven and angels. I told him I didn't," Ruby said, trying to break the tension. "He's never gonna let me live that one down…. If he—"

"He's gonna be fine," Dean replied coldly. He wasn't trying to reassure her as much as he was trying to stop her from finishing the sentence.

Dean busied himself by checking the windows to get a sense of where they were. The dimming sky indicated that they had not changed time zones significantly. The building they were in looked like a fourplex in a lower-income residential neighborhood. Most of the buildings on the street were single-family homes or duplexes. Every building's first floor was raised slightly above street level to prevent against flooding damage. One abandoned-looking house's front door was spray painted with a faded orange X surrounded by some alphanumeric shorthand around it. It looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place the image.

After taking in their circumstances and realizing that they at least appeared to be temporarily free from assault, Ruby decided to get to work improving the situation. She unbuttoned Sam's shirt, pulling it open to reveal his chest, which rose and fell reassuringly. She carefully laid her hands onto the tattoo on his chest, then started whispering.

"What're you doing?" Dean asked as he approached her in concern.

"I'm trying to channel some magic into him through the healing ward. It should help." She didn't bother opening her eyes while talking to him.

Dean nodded to himself and decided to see if there was anything productive he could do. Bobby was knocked out, but had no obvious injuries. Dean gently positioned the older hunter into something that hopefully wouldn't be too uncomfortable in the long term.

"Is Bobby okay?" Ruby asked, peeking quickly at Dean's activity, but not breaking the channeling of the spell.

"Looks like he's just out cold."

"If he doesn't wake up soon…." She paused briefly because of the difficulty of multitasking. "If you can find a pen…. I could help you put a healing ward on him… tell you how to use it."

Dean eyed her uncertainly and looked down at Bobby. He didn't like the idea of using witchcraft, especially on Bobby, but it might be helpful if his condition ended up being worse than it appeared. "We're gonna give him some time first. He doesn't look that bad."

"Fine." She frowned slightly. "Just don't let conviction… stop you from saving him."

Dean opened his mouth to argue with her, but he stopped himself. As far as he was concerned, Ruby was the poster child for questionable ethics. She had always been the one suggesting that they run from the bad guys that needed stopping or killing the virgin instead of fighting the old-fashioned way. Of course she would suggest using witchcraft to heal Bobby, but the fact was that if—when the angel woke up he could probably perform the healing faster and by less shady means.

With renewed focus, Dean made his first priority helping the angel. Kneeling beside him, Dean took the trench coat and suit jacket off of Castiel. He rolled up the bloody trench coat into a cushion to support the angel's head and at the same time apply some pressure to the stab wound in his upper back. The suit jacket was used to assist in the clean up and applying pressure to the front abdominal stab wound. When Dean removed Castiel's shirt he was surprised to find that the wounds were bleeding unusually slowly for such significant injuries so he felt for a pulse.

"Angel guy's pulse is really low, 30 beats per minute, maybe less," Dean said to Ruby. He doubted she knew much more about angels than he did, but at that point she was all he had for a second opinion.

"It could be power save mode," she suggested, then paused for a few seconds to successfully divide her attention. "He's using a meatsuit…. That kind of stuff takes energy…. If the angel part is hurt... he might just be doing... the bare minimum... to keep the body running."

"Well, the body isn't going to be running much longer if it bleeds out." Dean maintained pressure on the abdominal wound, but looked up at Ruby. "Any idea if angels can survive having their meatsuits die?"

"Never met one before." She shrugged apologetically. "They seem tough…. Don't know though."

Dean picked up the suit jacket to reexamine the wound. It was deep and nasty. The angel blade was three-sided, one of the styles that was banned under the Geneva convention for being inhumane. A slashing cut with the blade would be simple enough to stitch, but a multi-sided stab wound was incredibly difficult to stitch closed. Despite the challenge, Dean hated the idea of doing nothing and feared what might happen if the angel continued to lose blood.

He got up and found the bathroom. The apartment they were in appeared to have been abandoned some time ago, but it hadn't been stripped bare. There were decrepit pieces of furniture and the occasional discarded object on the floor so Dean held out some tiny hope of finding a first aid kit. In the medicine cabinet he found a prescription pill bottle with a label that was too faded to read, a travel-sized bottle of mouthwash, and a miniature sewing kit that was missing half its contents. He grabbed the mouthwash and the sewing kit, then returned to the living room. As annoying as it was, Dean could stitch some wounds with a straight needle. The really concerning parts were the depth of the wounds, the fact that he only had old cotton thread, and that his disinfectant was some ancient mouthwash. Unfortunately, he would have to make do and just hoped that angels were resistant to infection. At least angels didn't seem to eat; otherwise patching the gut wound would be all the more unpleasant.

Dean and Ruby worked in silence for a long time, each healing their own patient in their own fashion. Occasionally they would sneak a peek at the other's progress, but not comment. Dean knew that he couldn't do any better at healing Sam's internal injuries than Ruby was doing so he didn't interfere. Meanwhile, Ruby only cared about the angel to the extent that he could help Sam, so if she was directly helping Sam at the same time that Dean was helping the angel, all the better.

After finishing stitching the angel's abdominal wound, Dean sat back for a minute to take a break. He tried to clean the blood from his hands on the suit jacket, but a little smear still got on his forehead when he wiped the sweat from his brow. Taking a few deep breaths and stretching his sore back, he looked over at Ruby. She was still in the same half-kneeling, half-sitting position, with her hands on Sam's tattoo. Dean rolled his eyes thinking about how nice it must be to have demonic stamina.

"How long will it take for Sam to wake up?" Dean knew that was a bigger question than she was probably able to answer, but he asked it anyway. He wished that he could directly help Sam, but knew the best thing he could do was to get the angel back on his feet.

"I'm not sure…. I don't know how long... I can keep up channeling…. I spent a lot of power in the fight…. His innate power... should keep the ward running... but I don't know how bad... the injuries are and... how strong his powers are…. I could—" Ruby cut herself off in a way that alarmed Dean. She looked at him, then looked away quickly.

"Is he okay?" Dean moved a little closer to make sure that Sam hadn't suddenly stopped breathing. "What's wrong?"

"It's not that." She hesitated. "There's a way... to speed up the healing... but it's a last resort."

"What is it?" If she looked that uncomfortable saying it, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"If I give him some of my blood…" she answered, causing Dean to take a step back in alarm. "He'll have more power…. The healing ward'll work better."

"No way!" Dean yelled. He was shocked and honestly a little frightened by her suggestion. Demon blood was what had gotten Sam into this mess. "The demons already think he's a demon. Those angels just tried to kill him for it. Even without the angels and the demons— What it would do to him— He's not getting more demon blood."

"He seems stable enough now... but if things turn south—"

"It's not happening!" Dean tried to get her to stop talking as he had when she was talking about Sam dying before, but she just continued.

"And the angel is still out…. Unless you have a better idea… he might die."

"Then at least he'll die human!"

Dean was shaken by his own words. He knew that Sam had demon blood in him. He knew that a lot of people would say he wasn't human. But things were going to get better... before all this. Sam was going to tell him everything. They were going to have a fresh start to their relationship. Dean knew that Sam had been through a lot and done some unsavory things, but Sammy was finally going to let him into his life again. Dean would support him, help him, keep him on the straight and narrow.

But everything had gone wrong in almost no time at all. It had only been a few hours since things were really looking up between them and now Ruby was suggesting putting more poison in Sam. It might save his life on some level, but it would push him further over the edge, into the Pit. Dean knew first-hand what dark dealings with good intentions could do. There was a line that had to be drawn. Sam wasn't a monster and Dean wouldn't make him become one.

"This stuff doesn't just wear off…. It's in him; it's staying in him…. He'll never die human." She opened her mouth to say something more, but stopped herself. Her expression was a combination of guilt, rage, and pity. Biting her lip, she bowed her head to look down at Sam.

Dean didn't see her. He was too busy pacing the room in his outrage. He wanted to yell at her, but he was too livid to form words. He wanted to say she was being selfish trying to make Sam more like her, to turn him into something he wasn't. What did it matter to her if Sam lost his humanity, lost his soul, as long as she got what she wanted. She didn't care what it would do him. She just didn't care—

He stopped pacing and turned, ready to let her have it when he finally looked at her. She was shaking, most visibly in her arms, which had been held out in front of her for hours while she was healing Sam. Her face was looking down at his body, her hair draped around her head, hiding her from view. But below her face were a dozen little drop-sized pools of clear liquid on Sam's exposed chest and tiny wet spots on the fabric of her maternity shirt.

Ruby was crying. Dean had never seen her express any emotions beside things akin to cockiness, annoyance, and anger. As much as he wanted to power through and vent his frustration, he was too confused. He didn't understand why she would be crying. He could see her being angry at him for shooting down her suggestion. Maybe she'd even fight with him over it, but she wasn't fighting.

She was scared… like he was. Why else would she be trying so hard to heal Sam? She didn't want to give Sam the blood either. If she had really wanted to she probably could have done to covertly while he was taking care of the angel. She didn't have to tell Dean, but she did in spite of him almost certainly being against it. They both didn't want to give him the blood, but she had humored it….

Maybe she didn't care as much about the risks. Dean watched another tear fall from her cheek and got the distinct feeling that in all the stress and chaos he had missed the mark. Ruby cared more than he had given her credit for, but she was willing to take the risks… in spite of fearing the possible outcomes. She was prepared to deal with the consequences, whatever they ended up being, and he hadn't been.

Dean wanted to fix Sam, for his little brother to be more human—be more like him. He was the one who wanted to change Sam, not Ruby. He wanted a lot of things that weren't happening and when it got tough he had drawn the line in the sand to make it simple. But he couldn't change what Sam was, not with stubborn thinking, possibly not ever. He'd talked big about being there for Sam, accepting him, but it was hard to shake old paternalistic habits. At least he saw that now.

"I don't want to be the kind of person that can shut someone out because it gets inconvenient." Dean's voice was soft; he mostly spoke to himself. Ruby glanced up to see that he had started leaning against the wall and buried his face in his palms. His body was curled into itself slightly and turned away from her. "I don't want to be the kind of person that can let him die because I'm scared of what he might become, what he might be…. This fucking 'might.' The last few days everything's what 'might have been,' what we 'might do,' what Sammy 'might be'... I don't know. I don't know about all this 'might,' but I do know that Sammy is my little brother and I don't want to let him die. I can deal with it, whatever it does to him. I'm not gonna ditch him again."

"He's a good man... in spite of the blood... in spite of being around people like us." Dean didn't look back at her, but let out a small chuckle at Ruby's painfully true comment. "If anyone can stay good… he can…. But the blood… it's only… the last resort."

Dean heard some movement and reluctantly turned to look at Ruby. Neither of them had wanted to endure the embarrassment of seeing each other while having that vulnerable conversation, but he needed know what was happening. Ruby had stopped channeling the spell. She tried to move, faltered and nearly fell over, but managed to prop herself up with one arm. Her eyelids were puffy, pink, and heavy, but otherwise she looked paler than usual. Dean watched her for a second, torn between retreating from any further awkward interactions and helping her. Her expression was strained, then defeated as she looked to Dean.

"Can you help me up?" Ruby asked with visible embarrassment. Dean stared at her, a little disoriented by the fact that in the last minute the mood had gone from him wanting to scream at her to her ask him for help. "I'm completely out of juice and sitting here is killing my back."

He nodded and walked over while trying to avoid eye contact, but extended his hands to her. She took his hands, got most of the way to standing, then stumbled. Dean caught her, wrapping one arm around her back. His other arm instinctively tried to wrap around her front, touched her belly, then jerked away awkwardly. He eventually grabbed one of her upper arms with his free hand and guided her to a shabby couch on the far wall. Lowering her down to the couch he noticed that she was weak enough that she essentially fell onto the couch. So much for his ideas about demonic stamina.

After depositing her on one end of the couch, Dean sat down on the other end. They both sat there quietly staring at the three men laying on the floor before them. Sam and Castiel could both receive more aid, but Dean and Ruby both needed some time to get back their own strength. Each of them had suffered substantial trauma during the fight, and while Castiel's healing had restored them physically, the last few hours had drained them on many levels. Their emotional breaks only moments earlier had proved that.

"What if he doesn't wake up?" Ruby asked while staring at Castiel.

Dean didn't want to think about the possibility. The angel was probably the most powerful of them in a fight, assuming he fully recovered, and it was naive to think that there wouldn't be more fights ahead of them. Also, he was their only lead on the new heavenly developments. With angels suddenly on the scene there were many questions that needed answering.

"He'll be fine."

"He might not. We need a plan, if he dies." Ruby propped herself up on the armrest, turning to face Dean. She looked more serious than Dean was used to from her.

"We already talked about the blood." Dean frowned as he looked out a nearby window, where a waxing moon could be seen breaking through some clouds.

"That's just one idea. We can still try to come up with others." Ruby glanced around the room again thoughtfully. "The angels'll be looking for Sam, the baby, and me…. We could split up. Bobby could get Sam to a hospital, and you—"

"I'm staying with Sam." Dean turned to look her in the eyes. He was adamant. He'd spent too many months away from Sam. He wasn't just going to leave him. He wasn't going to ditch him.

"The angels will be looking for Sam and you can't run with him like this." Ruby pointed at Sam. "They'll be after me, but they might not be looking for you. We could all split up at the same time. I run one way, Bobby tries to hide Sam at a hospital with these blood wards, and you'd run the other way—"

"I can't believe you'd just take off." He didn't understand. After seeing her crying, he'd thought that maybe she cared about Sam. "You know what, nevermind. What I can't believe is that you think that I'd just run away too."

"I wouldn't just run away and hide, you idiot. I'd be a distraction. They'd already be looking for me. I can teleport and use warding magic to lead them away from Sam and you."

Dean was a little taken aback by her offer. He felt incredibly uncomfortable from her uncharacteristic concern. "Why do you care about me?"

"I don't," she replied while crossing her arms in front of her chest, in a move that made him feel oddly better. "But if we have to split up, you should take the baby."

His stomach knotted and he felt a bit lightheaded. It had barely occurred to him eventually there might really be a flesh-and-blood baby in his proximity—in his life. The thought that, should things get any worse, he might suddenly find himself responsible for a child completely blindsided him. And it wasn't just any baby; it would be some kind of freaky interspecies baby that was being hunted by Heaven. That was very nearly the last thing he wanted and he had no idea why Ruby would want that either.

"What?" he asked weakly.

"Sam would want the kid safe." Her hand absentmindedly settled on her belly. "I can't do that if they're looking for me."

"You'd seriously want me to take the kid?"

"You're our best chance to keep the kid safe. The angels might not look for you. You're fast, resourceful, and could probably stay off the grid. If you took the kid I'd try to buy you enough time to find the strongest protection magics you could and hide. You could contact my coven; they'd help you. If it seems safe, you could try to get in touch with Bobby…. If I could distract the angels long enough, maybe Sam would heal enough to be moved somewhere safe for the long term."

Ruby's expression was far from the snarky and proud woman that liked to tease Dean. She was trying her best to make a strategic decision under bleak conditions. It looked like that wasn't the first time she'd had to weigh unpleasant options. Dean reminded himself that for the last year and a half she had also been living on the run, hunting and being hunted. She might not care about him, but it seemed she didn't only care about herself. After all, she had just suggested a plan that involved her almost certain death as an alternative to Sam drinking more demon blood. Dean wasn't sure how much of it was an offer or an academic exercise, but when it came right down to it he appreciated the gesture regardless.

"The angel'll live," Dean said with determination as he stood up and walked over to Castiel. He knelt beside the angel. "Like you said, he's tough."

* * *

Ruby watched Dean work from the couch. He had returned to stitching up the angel's second stab wound. He was finishing the sutures on the infraspinatus muscle when Ruby audibly sighed with relief. Dean looked over at her. She was holding her belly, staring at it with a fatigued half-smile on her face.

"What's up?" he asked.

"The baby's moving. After the fight..." She broke eye contact with Dean and her gaze settled on Sam. She gingerly climbed back down onto the floor, positioning herself next to Sam. Gently picking up his hand, she held his palm to her belly. "He has this thing about feeling the baby move. It makes him happier. When he'd sleep or was injured, this would make him more relaxed."

Dean looked away from her. The display of affection and thoughtfulness from Ruby was unsettling. He wanted to retreat from the intimate moment, but he still had to finish patching the angel's wound. After stitching the skin, he tried to disinfect the area a bit with the mouthwash. Then Dean rolled the angel onto his back again and inspected the stitching on the first wound. The cotton thread was holding surprisingly well all things considered.

Now that the bleeding had hopefully stopped, Dean decided to clean some of the dried blood up. He grabbed the only-partially-blood-stained white dress shirt and wetted it at the sink that mercifully still worked. Dabbing the wet shirt at the angel's abdomen, Dean notice that his meatsuit had a lean muscularness that was surprising for someone who looked like an accountant. The angel's chest rose and fell subtlety, which Dean found comforting. He couldn't imagine how strange it would be to stitch up something that was essentially a corpse.

Dean didn't notice how much time he had spent musing over the strange creature, but while he was staring Castiel regained consciousness. The angel's hand reached up and grabbed Dean's wrist. Startled, Dean pulled away slightly, but Castiel's grip prevented him from getting far. Castiel looked at Dean, then down at the sewn up wound on his lower torso. He tilted his head slightly in confusion.

"Your wounds—you were bleeding. I didn't know if they'd kill you," Dean said a little defensively.

He tried pulling away from Castiel again, but the angel's hand was still clamped on his wrist. Castiel realized he was restraining Dean, then released him. Dean fell backward from his kneeling position and ended up seated on the floor next to the angel.

"I... appreciate your concern. I will need more time to recover, but barring any other injuries I will survive." Castiel's voice was gravelly and deep as it had been before, but it was also slightly strained. He didn't change positions, instead choosing to continue lying on the rolled up trench coat. Castiel softly touched the stitches. "Your treatment of my vessel was thoughtful and will likely expedite my recovery."

After a few seconds of silence Dean realized several things. The angel didn't appear to be making any attempts to cover his bare chest. Dean could feel himself blush with sympathetic embarrassment for the socially-oblivious angel. And when he looked around the room, he saw that Ruby was watching them with rapt attention. Dean's lips thinned and he looked to her hoping for some sort of help.

"So, who the hell are you?" she asked.

Dean's shoulders slumped and he glared at her bluntness, but she just shrugged in return. To Dean's relief the angel seemed to either not understand or care that Ruby had been somewhat rude.

"My name is Castiel."

"Well, thank you for saving our asses." Dean chuckled nervously to himself at the realization that he had also cursed in front of the angel… granted he had called Castiel an 'asshat' back at Bobby's. He shook the faux pas from his mind. "I'm Dean."

"I know who you are," Castiel said as he turned his attention back to Dean. "You do not have to thank me; you are my charge... or you were my charge while I acted in the service of Heaven."

The angel looked pained for reasons having nothing to do with being stabbed twice and thrown through a ceiling. Dean attempted to parse Castiel's statement. He abstractly knew that a charge was a responsibility. He supposed it made sense that humans would be the charges of angels. But it was the 'while I acted in the service of Heaven' that seemed to make the angel's mood darken.

"You don't serve Heaven?" Dean asked.

"That is a complex question…. I have defied my superiors and killed one of my brothers." Castiel's face somehow grew even more reserved and unreadable. "I am fallen."

"That one angel said you were sick. Is it serious?" Ruby asked from across the room as she held her belly and Sam's hand. She eyed the angel, looking for signs of threats to them in all forms.

"My illness should not afflict humans or demons. As for me, it is not life threatening." Castiel thought better of his wording. "That is not true. I believe that my condition cannot degrade further; whether it kills me remains to be seen."

"I don't follow," Dean said.

"My illness was an affliction of my faith. I became corrupted and it spread in me until I fell. There are no degrees of severity once an angel is severed from Heaven. I am after the fall. It is only a question of how long it will take before I am captured or killed."

"So you were sick when you guys popped in on us, but you didn't fall until you helped us?" Dean speculated.

"Essentially."

Dean felt a pang of guilt. The angel had sacrificed much more for them than it had first seemed. It was one thing to get into a fight, but having Heaven put you on their hit list was something else entirely. And aside from that, he had referred to the blonde angel as his brother. Dean didn't know if that was literal or figurative, but Castiel had clearly gone to extremes for them.

The talk of an angelic illness had piqued Ruby's interest. Any information on the weaknesses of angels could be valuable, regardless of whatever gratitude they had for the one in the room. "How does an angel even get sick to begin with?"

"I am told there are multiple ways. Most involve indulgence into emotions." Castiel avoided eye contact with Dean and Ruby, instead he seemed to be reflecting inward on a memory. "They are... dangerous."

"What happened to you?" Dean asked softly. Not only did he feel bad for this angel that was ill—by some strange angelic standard—but that Castiel had also rebelled and suffered injuries to save them. Yet there was something about him that Dean couldn't put his finger on….

"I was corrupted in Hell while I was saving you." Castiel refused to look at Dean for the several seconds of silence that followed, but when he finally braved a glance he realized just how distressed Dean had become.

Dean felt lightheaded and he was grateful that he was already sitting down. Painful memories surfaced as he reflexively tried to recall his rescue. He wobbled slightly, but Castiel placed a hand on his arm to help stabilize him.

"Are you feeling unwell?" the angel asked.

Dean shook his head in lieu of words. Of all of the unbelievable stuff that had happened in the last few days, finding out that he'd been rescued from Hell by an angel was probably the most insane— Though he had to admit that under normal circumstances Sam's demon baby-mama would easily win, but that was Sam. Weird things just sort of happened to Sam, but Dean was different. He'd always been one of those weird things caught in his brother's orbit. The strangest thing that had ever happened to Dean was selling his soul and going to Hell, which he did for Sam. But being pulled from Hell…. That seemed to have nothing to do with Sam. The way the angels had been talking at Bobby's house, they weren't even expecting to find Sam and Ruby there…. Which posed the question of why they had been there in the first place, and one of them already had a significant history with him.

Looking down at Castiel's hand firmly holding his forearm Dean had a strange feeling of deja vu. There had been the endless pain and sickening mixture of sadistic pleasure and guilt. He had been in one of Alastair's dungeons, or maybe it was his private dungeon, and then it had all gone blank. After that he couldn't remember any sights, smells, or sounds…. He had assumed that he'd blacked out, but the sensation of being held, even just his arm, felt familiar. It wasn't the touch of Castiel's hand that was somewhat recognizable; if he was honest with himself it was the sensation of concerned support.

Dean finally managed to whisper, "You saved me?"

"Yes," Castiel replied. "I was the one that gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

"Why?" Dean swallowed hard and blinked rapidly to stop himself from crying after the incredibly emotional day.

"Because God willed it."

"No fucking way," Ruby exhaled.


	32. Judgment from on High

Dean looked back and forth between Castiel and Ruby. He was confused, embarrassed, and more than a little frightened. It didn't make any sense that someone other than Bobby and Sam would care that he was alive, but having God care was just too much. He hadn't even believed in God until…. Well, honestly he still wasn't entirely convinced. Yet, assuming there was a God, Dean was a nobody being called out by the most powerful entity in existence. Thoroughly creeped out, Dean scooted away from Castiel.

"Why?" he asked. "What does God care about me?"

"You have been deemed to be the Righteous Man—"

Ruby interrupted, "What kind of idiot looks at Dean and thinks 'righteousness'?"

"God," Castiel replied flatly, but his eyes narrowed at her.

"God?" Dean groaned and shook his head. It didn't make any sense, but so much of the last few days hadn't made sense either. "Why am I 'deemed'? What's so special about me?"

"I do not know why you were chosen or my father's purpose for you, but I do know that your survival is a priority of Heaven."

Dean laughed sarcastically at the angel's comment. "You could've fooled me. However many broken bones and the rest of the beat-down—not to mention the fact that I actually did die once…. Heaven's sure doing a bang-up job."

"I do not know why you were unprotected before, but I expect that there was a good reason." Castiel spoke with a confidence that seemed more academic in nature than personal sentiment. "Heaven does not act or refrain from action without reason."

"Does Heaven have a good reason for trying to kill me and Sam?" Ruby asked, but tried to not let her anger at the other angels transfer over onto Castiel.

Castiel evaded her with growing discomfort. "Uriel did not have the authority to make that decision."

"And who does?" Her voice had turned cold reflexively.

"If you prove to be a legitimate threat to Heaven…." Castiel became quiet for a moment. "Then the Archangels Raphael and Michael will make a decision. Opinions whether the choice is rightfully theirs are moot."

"Debating who gets to decide if I live or die—" Ruby began to raise her voice, but Dean held up his hand and threw her a pleading glance. She cut herself off from continuing on to yell at the angel that had just risked his life to save her and Sam.

"So what, you're just trying to enforce Heaven's chain of command and saving our lives was a perk?" Dean asked, trying to understand their new ally and the potential limits of his reliability.

"It is more complicated than that," the angel replied.

"Enlighten us."

"If the true judgment of Heaven is to kill them, then it is not the place of lesser angels to question it," Castiel explained. "Similarly, it would not be their place to seek out violence if Heaven spares them. The opinion of a lesser angel in the service of Heaven is unimportant."

Some of the flickering hope still alive in Dean was extinguished by the answer. "But you fell. You aren't in the service of Heaven anymore, so what do you think?" Dean almost pleaded with the angel in asking the question.

Castiel was quiet for several seconds as his lips thinned so slightly that Dean barely noticed the change. "I would not kill them. They may be impure in form, but Sam does not seem to willingly be an enemy of Heaven. Sam and the child have souls, which places them under the guardianship of the Heavenly Host. This privilege is theirs to lose, not ours to take away."

"Do you think the other angels will see it that way?" Dean asked with renewed hope, but his optimism dwindled as the angel pondered the question for far too long.

* * *

From across the room, Bobby let out a low groan that caught their attention. Dean rushed to his side to check on him. After a minute or two, Bobby allowed Dean to lift him up into a sitting position to help shed some of the disorientation. It took some time to catch Bobby up on everything that had happened since he was knocked out. When it came time for Dean and Ruby to recount Uriel's death, they both glossed over the details because of their mutual discomfort with the implications of what they had witnessed.

"That one angel tried to kill Sam, but he got the angel first," Dean said. Bobby seemed surprised, but somewhat satisfied. However, Castiel looked up with new concern.

"Tambriel was holding his blade when I killed him and I had the other two," Castiel commented, interrupting the story. "How did Sam kill Uriel?"

"He did... something." Dean began with an uncertain tone in his voice. The truth was that he didn't know what Sam did exactly. It was obviously some sort of power, but Dean had never seen anything like it before and that scared him.

"It looked kinda like that hellfire ray that…." Ruby struggled with how to end her sentence, while the two hunters and angel watched her expectantly. She gave up and continued with her original thought. "Like the ray that archdemons sometimes use, but it was a little different."

The new power being compared to an archdemon's ability had felt like a punch in the gut to Dean. He glanced over at Sam and sighed. He tried to shake the thought from his mind and replace it with something more productive. The angel was awake and pretty soon Sam would be healed. Sammy would be okay and he would be there for him. Dean took a calming breath, trying to refocus on the discussion at hand.

"I doubt that is what happened." Castiel's brow furrowed subtly as he tilted his head to look at Sam in newfound curiosity. "The Light of Hell might be unpleasant to an angel, but there has never been an instance of it proving lethal to one of my siblings."

"I don't know. He touched the angel's chest, then white light came out his mouth and eyes," Ruby explained. "Closest thing I've ever seen was Lilith pulling that on us a year or so back."

"Light emitting from the mouth and eyes would occur regardless of the cause of an angel's death," Castiel stated, then looked to Ruby in not-entirely-hidden surprise. "You survived the Light of Hell?"

"Barely." She almost shuddered at the memory. "I was wrecked inside and out. I only lived because Sam shielded me."

"He was unharmed?"

"Yeah…." Ruby looked at Sam, then back at Castiel. "Twice. Lilith used it on him twice and it didn't do anything to him."

There was an uncomfortable silence between them for several seconds before Bobby broke it by asking the angel, "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Not definitively without more information, but it is unusual." Castiel sat up, put on his dress shirt and jacket, then slowly started trying to get to his feet. "I believe I have recovered enough to heal Sam. He may be able to offer more insight into the situation."

As the most able-bodied person in the room, Dean hurried over to Castiel and grabbed the angel's arm to offer some stability. When Castiel moved in a direction that wasn't synchronized with him, the innate physical strength of the angel became evident. After several instances of feeling like he was trying to redirect a marble pillar, Dean completely resigned himself to letting Castiel lead and simply acting as a cane. With Dean's awkward assistance, Castiel walked over and knelt down next to Sam.

"Healing him may temporarily weaken me," Castiel warned them, "but I will survive."

Castiel gently rested one hand on Sam's forehead and the other over his heart. After a few seconds, the angel fell backward, but Dean caught him. Castiel hadn't passed out, but he looked incredibly weak. With a little difficulty, Dean picked him up and carried him to the couch. Castiel's vessel was two or three inches shorter than Dean and a slighter build, but he was still a grown man, though it proved much easier than trying to move Sam.

"Sam, can you hear me?" Ruby asked.

Dean deposited Castiel on the couch, then turned to see Ruby running her fingers through Sam's hair. Sam's fingertips dragged along the wood floor as he experimented with moving.

"Yeah." Sam spoke in a whisper and didn't bother trying to close his mouth. His lips formed words, but hesitated. Ruby leaned closer to hear him. "Did I…. Am I dead?"

"No. You're alive." She smiled sadly at his question and stroked his arm reassuringly. "We all are. Dean and Bobby, too."

Sam tilted his head back slightly and opened his eyes. The room was dark, barely illuminated by a street light outside a nearby window. His eyes drifted around looking for a familiar face and settled on the dim, fuzzy image of Ruby. A second later he saw Dean come into view, kneeling down on his other side.

"Hey, Sammy. We're all right here," Dean said softly and in a more lighthearted tone than he felt.

Sam's hand that was closest to Ruby reached for her feebly. "Is the baby okay?"

"Seems to be fine. It was shifting around just a few minutes ago."

"Those things…. They…." Sam flinched slightly causing Dean to move closer in his concern. Ruby softly put a palm on Sam's chest. His mouth struggled with expressing something so Ruby tried to help him.

"There were two angels that tried to kill us," she explained. "The other one helped save us. He's here, but he temporarily wore himself out healing you just now."

Sam closed his eyes and didn't do anything for a long time, until Dean asked in a hopefully soothing voice, "Sammy, are you okay?"

"Those were angels." Sam turned his head to face away from the streetlight, darkening his face. "They wanted to kill us and we didn't do anything. We've been fighting demons and they didn't even care. I…."

Sam went quiet again. Ruby could feel his body trembling, but it wasn't remotely cold. She took his closest hand in one of hers. With her free hand she touched the side of his face, discovering a warm tear on his cheek. She didn't wipe it away for fear that Sam wouldn't want Dean or Bobby to know that he was crying.

"I think…" Sam continued cautiously. "I killed one."

Dean exchanged worried looks with Ruby and Bobby. It wasn't clear from Sam's voice if he was having difficulty remembering through the pain, was distraught about the encounter, or both. In spite of the close bond that Sam shared with each other them, none of them really knew much about his feelings on Heaven. He had always keep those feelings close to his heart, only tipping his hand slightly when Ruby had brought it up months earlier.

Growing up Sam had seen evil and had had faith that some good must exist in the world to fight it. But that force of good needed to be something more than the everyday workings of men. He knew that hunters fought evil and he knew that he did good, but at a young age he realized that neither of those pictures encompassed the situations. Every hunter he had ever met had been flawed and was frequently broken. His dad had been obsessed and occasionally cruel. Dean was a borderline-alcoholic fueled by low self-esteem and daddy issues as much as anything else. Sam himself had been largely motivated by a need to overcome the darkness he'd felt inside.

But there had to be some uncompromising good; there was uncompromising evil, after all. He needed to believe that there was some sort of balance to the universe because maybe, even if he couldn't see it in his own life, there was some level of fairness. The universe wouldn't be so brutal. He just was having a bad run of luck or had a horrible vantage point…. Yet, the angels didn't care about his and Ruby's good works. His icon of an unwavering source of good was actually morally ambiguous, and his faith was shattered.

"It was self-defense," Dean suggested as an excuse.

"It doesn't matter." Sam rolled over to look at Castiel, who was starting to straighten himself on the couch. "They won't care, will they?"

"It is unlikely that your motivation for killing Uriel will be taken into account. Killing an angel is one of the highest crimes in the eyes of Heaven. The intention of the killer has never been a relevant factor." Castiel looked thoughtfully at the others before continuing. "However, this a unique situation. All other instances have been committed during a time of war when the intentions were clear. It is possible that an exception would be made, but it remains unlikely. I witnessed the event and sided with you, but it is still difficult for me to accept what has happened. My brothers and sisters will likely be less forgiving."

"You killed one of the angels too?"

"Yes, and I will almost certainly be executed for it. But I will not forfeit my remaining life for judgment." He took a slow, still breath as he collected his conviction. "If I am destined to die, it will happen. Until then I will continue on in my duties, not in service to Heaven, but instead to its charges on Earth."

Sam carefully sat up with the help of Dean, then ran his fingers through his hair and over his damp face. He pushed the pain and betrayal of his faith to the back of his mind. He was tired of reacting and being one step behind. Now that they had become prey to something more powerful than demons or hunters it was all the more important to stay vigilant.

"How do we defend against them?" Sam asked with renewed focus.

"I have two angel blades, which are lethal to angels as well as most other creatures on Earth." Castiel looked Sam in the eye. "But you do not appear to need an angel blade. Do you know how you were able to kill him?"

"I thought it was the demon beam." Sam looked between the angel and Ruby.

"I doubt that the Light of Hell killed Uriel. It has never proved capable of killing an angel before." Castiel leaned briefly to one side in an armless shrug at a new thought. "If that has changed the result would be devastating for Heaven."

"You mean in the war?" Dean asked. "The one that the other angel mentioned. Do you know what he was talking about?"

"Possibly, but my information is limited. I would have to speculate."

"An educated guess is a lot better than nothin'," Bobby encouraged him.

"There has been a rising sense of urgency in Heaven," Castiel explained. "Many angels have been tasked with unusual missions that appear to be prefacing a significant undertaking. Until three years ago, there had not been angels under the orders of Heaven taking vessels on Earth in centuries. When I left Heaven, before arriving at your home, there were seventy.

"Then there is the matter of Sam and the child. Their mere existence is alarming. They have souls, which make them unlike any other type of creature of the Abyss. To my knowledge, the only beings capable of altering the fundamentals of the Abyssal are God and Lucifer. It is incredibly unlikely that God would make such a change without informing the Heavenly Host. The alternative, though, is deeply unsettling. It would indicate that Lucifer is acting in this world in spite of his imprisonment."

"Lucifer—the Devil is real?" Ruby asked in surprise.

"Yes. He is my brother." Castiel paused for a moment recalling the archangel's fall. "There was a time when he was the most powerful angel in Heaven. He was the most beautiful, made of the First Light to illuminate existence. God loved him more than anything, until the creation of humans. Our father ordered that all angels serve, protect, and care for humans, but Lucifer refused. He loathed human imperfection and rebelled against the edict.

The others listened to this first-person account of the origin of the Devil. Dean and Bobby were both struggling to get used to taking biblical stories as something as practical as mundane lore. Ruby listened thoughtfully; in a real way, this was the origin of her species and when it came right down to it she could believe that magnitude of crazy. Sam had no trouble believing the story—he knew it was true. Whether it was from years of faith or some intuition, the story had the faint truth of some barely-recalled memory.

"There was an unfathomable war," Castiel continued. "Hundreds of angels allied themselves with Lucifer against Heaven. In his fury, Lucifer corrupted a pure-hearted human into the first demon. He created his own kingdom and creatures, apart from Earth and Heaven. Hell would be the antithesis of Heaven, corrupting and stealing the souls previously destined for eternal peace.

"After a lengthy campaign, the Archangel Michael defeated Lucifer in battle. Instead of killing him, God trapped Lucifer in a personal prison. He has been bound since then and until recently I would have believed that he was entirely secure."

"But then I came along and we don't know how," Sam stated, bringing the story back around to their single biggest omen.

"It is technically possible to release Lucifer from his cage, but it is very difficult. His cage is bound by many seals or rituals. Imagine them as locks on Lucifer's cage. When sixty-six have been broken Lucifer may walk free."

Sam and Ruby looked at each other with mutual understanding and concern. Sam felt like his heart dropped a few inches. They had spent almost a year trying to stop some grand scheme without any motivation beyond knowing Lilith was up to no good. Now they started wondering just how grand the scheme really was.

"Sixty-six seals, not sixty-four?" Ruby asked in an uncomfortable, slightly high-pitched voice.

"Yes," Castiel confirmed. "Why do you ask?"

"Lilith—Lucifer's first demon—she's been making a whole army of demons run around Earth trying to do sixty-four tasks," she explained.

Castiel thought for a moment before acknowledging, "That could be consistent with the breaking of the seals."

"Except they're missing two seals," Sam pointed out.

"Not necessarily," the angel replied. "I believe that the first seal must be broken in Hell. I do not know what the other seals involve, but it is possible that the last one might also require extreme circumstances. If it could not be performed on Earth, then Lilith would not assign subordinates to pursue it on Earth."

"We stopped one of them. It can't be completed for almost three hundred years," Sam said in a mixture of hope and desperation.

"There are six hundred possible seals. They could simply find another."

Dean threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "I'm sorry—so they only need to be hitting 11% and Lucifer gets out of his own private Hell or whatever? You've gotta be fucking kidding me." He sighed, then muttered, "That's a dumb design."

The angel scowled at Dean. "Do not blaspheme in my presence."

"Is it blasphemous if I'm just saying something that's true?"

Castiel's eyes narrowed a little more, but he didn't argue.

* * *

"So, Heaven and Lilith are getting ready for some sort of knock-down-drag-out fight once Lucifer gets on the scene?" Dean refined the scenario aloud as he rubbed a minor headache forming below his temples.

"It appears that way," Castiel answered.

"It's gonna be a slaughter for the demons though." Ruby pointed out. "Even if the archdemons can use the Hell-light beam on angels, Lilith only has a handful of archdemons and a few hundred demons topside supporting her. Even against only the seventy angels that were on Earth this morning, the demons would be completely outgunned."

"Didn't you say that Lilith was trying to capture the part of Hell housing the bombs?" Dean asked her. "Also, that she could kill a ton of humans up here to make her army in the Pits?"

"I mean it would take a while to get a decent number of new demons made," Ruby clarified. "If you want them really competent, then it could take years—Earth years."

"Maybe this is nuts, but if drinking demon blood makes you part demon, why doesn't Hell just dump a bucket of blood in a city's water supply?" Sam mused, silencing everyone in the room and drawing their attention. Dean and Bobby both felt a little sick at the idea. Ruby half-nodded, half-shrugged with respect for the brutal efficiency of the suggestion.

"To my knowledge, there has never been an instance of human turning into a demon as a direct result of drinking demon blood," Castiel said, causing Sam to raise his hand to point out the obvious oversight in the room, but Ruby interrupted.

"I'm sure you have a nice big sample set on that one," she commented a little smugly.

"As compared to the historical population of Earth it is insignificant," Castiel replied. "But there have been tens of thousands of examples."

"No way. How is this something I've never heard of?" Ruby asked.

"The practice was most prominent in Scandinavia and Central America, both over a thousand years ago. The desired effects were not achieved and it lost popularity as specific religions evolved or were eliminated."

"What were the desired effects?" Sam asked, suddenly very self-conscious. Aside from the emotional train wreck that had just taken place, he felt pretty good—almost strong. If he had been alone he probably would've tried to use telekinesis, testing whether he'd improved with it overall or only when his adrenaline was pumping. But he didn't want to make a scene or start using his powers for fun. That could be a slippery slope that he didn't want to think about.

"To gain attributes of demons," Castiel answered. "Instead it would frequently harm or kill the humans. As for your situation, it seems likely that there are other factors responsible for your ability to benefit from demon blood. You may have merely been exposed to demon blood as part of a ritual to make you Abyssal."

"You keep using that word," Dean complained. "What the fuck is 'Abyssal'? I thought that was a language."

"Abyssal is both the language of and the classification of creatures of Hell," Castiel explained. "Demons are by far the most populous type, which is why the term 'demon' is frequently misattributed to other Abyssal. Most of the species became extinct centuries ago, and of the remaining species, all but demons and hellhounds have populations that are negligible."

"Hellhounds? You're saying that Sam is kinda like a hellhound?" Dean didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

"That comparison is unrefined. It would be similar to saying that humans are like dogs simply because you are both mammals," Castiel replied. "My characterization of Sam and the child is not so narrow."

"Sam isn't necessarily a demon, so the kid isn't necessarily a demon either?" Dean theorized.

Ruby threw a glare at him. "I'm still a demon, Mendel."

"Bite me," Dean jabbed back, but he'd honestly been so distracted by the talk of Sam and the kid that he'd forgotten about Ruby as a factor at all.

Castiel stared at Dean curiously. "Why would you request to be bitten?"

"He has a fetish—" Ruby started, but was cut off by Dean.

"She's joking."

"I do not see why that is humorous."

"Fucking chr—" Dean began.

"Ruby, try to lay off that kind of stuff," Sam added, cutting off Dean's blaspheme. "He seems pretty literal."

"He's never gonna learn if we—" But Ruby was cut off again by Dean.

"You just want to be a bitch."

"Everyone just shut up!" Bobby shouted. The four others waited in silence for several long seconds to see if they'd successfully avoided being chewed out by the old hunter.

"Was that command directed at all of us or merely the demoness and Dean?" Castiel asked.

Bobby stared in open-mouthed exasperation for a moment. "You weren't even talking when…." He sighed and shook his head.

"That does not answer my question." Castiel pursed his lip. He could see from Sam and Dean's posture change that they had been made subordinate by Bobby's words. He suspected that any further speaking on his part would breach some protocol, but he hadn't finished pointing out Bobby's error. "Your statement was ambiguous."

Bobby covered his face with his hand and muttered something that Ruby, Sam, and Dean couldn't hear, but Castiel tilted his head in confusion.

"What is an 'idjit'?"

* * *

"If Lilith's demons are running around breaking Lucifer's locks, then we need to get word to the other hunters," Bobby said after restoring order to the four grown children in his company.

"We should proceed with caution. It is likely that Heaven has begun watching the people that each of you are most likely to contact," Castiel warned.

"You think that Heaven will be tapping our friends' phones?"

"Modern technology is not beyond the reach of Heaven."

"But you guys aren't as good with magic, I take it?" Ruby nodded to the blood wards on the walls. "That one angel didn't seem particularly tough against a suppuration spell. Are you guys vulnerable or do you just not know how it works?"

"It is rare that an angel's duties require more than the abilities endowed to it," Castiel explained. "The magics that the majority of us are familiar with are used to affect areas and objects, such as these wards."

"So you guys don't know much about hexes, enchantments, illusions, evocation, transmutation, abjuration—" Ruby listed the spellcraft categories off on her fingers.

The angel raised his head, slightly offended. "We are somewhat versed in defensive magics beyond territorial warding."

"So we might have an in with common magic?" Dean mused.

"Mundane spellcraft might be overlooked by my siblings, if it is sufficiently innocuous. Though it may not take long for my siblings to realize that we are using magic. It should not be considered a long-term solution."

"Here's the catch-22," Ruby groaned. "In order to cast a spell to communicate with the outside world we need spell components from the outside world. What're the odds any of us can get outside these wards without getting dog-piled by angels?"

"It is likely that I could go undetected as long as I am sufficiently discreet. I could retrieve the components that you need," offered Castiel.

"No offense, but you kind of seem a bit rigid to be walking into a magic shop without causing a scene," Sam observed aloud.

"You do kinda act like a narc—not a hunter at least, but you're just…." Ruby looked to the guys for help articulating her point.

"You talk too formal," Bobby suggested. "Do you even use contractions?"

"I do not know," the angel said, a little confused and defensively.

"Your body is also way too tense," Dean added. "You look like you're waiting for someone to tell you 'at ease.'"

"The way my behavior is perceived by a small number of humans is unimportant. If the witches will not sell me the components because they think I am a narc," Castiel overemphasized the newly-added word to his vocabulary, "then I will simply take it by force."

Ruby shrugged in acknowledgement of the practicality of his plan.

"That's subtle." Dean rolled his eyes, then gestured at Castiel's body. "Whatever, you do your thing. Own that whole awkward-vibe you have going on."

"What do you need?" Castiel asked Ruby, turning his body to visibly ignore Dean's comments.

"Depends on what we can come up for as a plan. Bobby, angel," she invited. "I think we need to talk shop."

"I think I'm a bit out of my element. Don't know much about sneakin' magic past angels," Bobby commented.

"Yeah, but we need to figure out a way of communicating that isn't gonna spook a hunter. You're the most paranoid hunter here so you just joined the planning committee." She smiled at the old hunter.

"Don't try any of our hunters in Texas. They've been working some real crazy cases, maybe a trickster or something. It'll probably be an uphill fight to convince them of anything this nuts," Dean advised, earning an approving nod from Bobby before being roped into the conversation.


	33. Delivery of Nonconforming Goods

While the others started talking about the plan to contact the hunter network, Sam decided to get up and stretch his legs. He walked around the shabby living room, taking in their surroundings as he tried to process all the new information. Sam stopped to stare at a corner of the floor that had two small pools of blood slowly discoloring the wood. Beside the blood on the floor was an angel blade, which Sam picked up. He leaned against the wall next to a window and examined the blade by the dim light.

The blade wasn't as heavy as he had expected. He twirled it in his hand, appreciating its craftsmanship and balance. Carefully, Sam touched the point, which pierced the pad of his fingertip with almost no effort. He watched the drop of blood well up and frowned at it.

Blood had been on his mind a lot during the last few days. When it had just been him and Ruby, the demon blood in his system barely ever came up and when it did it passed without much more thought than would mention of Sam's unusual height. It was inevitable that Dean would need some time to get used to Sam having demon blood, or based on what Castiel had said earlier, just being part Abyssal. It was new territory for all of them, but Dean probably had the most to struggle through. Though it was comforting to see that the mere talk of Abyssal didn't make Dean leave the room or look particularly pained.

Sam went to wipe the blood drop on his pants, but he stopped when he noticed the multiple small stains all over his clothes. They were little red-brown patches of blood where his skin had broken while Uriel had been throwing him around and crushing him against the ceiling at Bobby's house. Looking at the blade and blood stains made him think back to the fight against Uriel, or at least as much of it as he could remember.

After hitting his head on the mantle, things had become a bit fuzzier, but there was a larger obstacle in his mind. He had been knocked across the ceiling, felt the impact against his torso, then the sensation was gone. Abstractly, he knew that his body had been pressed against the ceiling and he'd been dropped onto the floor, but there was a disconnect between the pain and the knowledge of pain. It was a startling realization, that maybe he'd finally been pushed so far that his mind just refused to hold onto that piece of the memory. He could remember touching Uriel and wanting to stop him, but the sensation of what he'd done…. Sam held up his empty hand and stared at it thoughtfully.

"You okay?"

Dean's question brought Sam back to the moment. The elder Winchester had left the others to strategize around what was left of a kitchen table to check on his little brother. He looked as tired as Sam felt, but hadn't complained about it. Instead, he was checking to make sure Sam was okay, in classic Dean fashion.

"I just wish I knew what was going on with me," Sam confided.

"Yeah. I've been wondering that same thing ever since you turned five. Seriously, Jem? You're lucky Dad never caught you watching that."

"More like I'm lucky you let me watch it."

"Yeah…. Well, Dad didn't get a say in everything." Dean smiled helplessly at a thought. "When we saw him for the first time after he went missing, with the whole Meg thing, I thought he was gonna give you hell for growing your hair out."

"He didn't say anything, did he?" They both tried to recall, but neither could remember it clearly. Too much had happened since then. "That seems like forever ago. I mean, Dad only knew about me having visions, and that was way back when it was only a few months…. How badly would he freak if he could see me fighting now?"

Dean hesitated. The truth was that he suspected that John would experience an even worse meltdown than he had been having over the last few days. Sam had done things and could do things that would justify being hunted, and there were times when Dean had seriously questioned whether John had considered himself more of a hunter or a father. In the end John had aided his sworn enemy in exchange for saving Dean's life, but in his last moments with Dean he had prioritized killing Sam if he couldn't be saved… from what? Maybe one of the acts Sam that had committed in the last year and a half would've put him beyond salvation in their father's eyes.

"Yeah. I thought so…. Honestly, I'm getting tired of all this powers stuff." Sam let out a small unenthusiastic chuckle. "You think you're upset by the endless surprises…."

"Really? You can use telekinesis. That seems like it'd be pretty cool in a fight or just around." Dean tried to lighten the mood and be supportive.

"I know you were busy getting wailed on but—"

"I wasn't getting wailed on. I was holding my own."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You spent most of the time on the ground."

"They might look scrawny, but those angels are tough and I went hand-to-hand with one."

"Fair enough." Sam raised his free hand, conceding the point. "While you were masterfully fighting the blonde one, you might not've noticed that the telekinesis itself wears me out. That's not the kind of cost-benefit ratio I want for grabbing the tv remote from across the room."

"I'm trying to picture us just sitting back, watching tv. How crazy does that seem right now?" Dean looked at Sam, who seemed to take on a slightly defeated expression at the acknowledgement of how bad things had gotten. He wanted to comfort his little brother, but he didn't feel particularly hopeful himself and settled on generic optimism. "Things'll get better."

"I know. It's just—"

"Ruby? You okay?!"

Bobby's alarmed tone caught Sam and Dean's attention from across the room. Ruby was slightly hunched forward at the table, bracing herself with one hand and holding her belly with the other. Her teeth were gritted and eyes clenched shut. She shook her head in response to Bobby's question. Sam ran to her side and crouched down so that they were at comparable heights. Once he was beside her, she gripped onto his shirt.

"This... sucks," she managed.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked as he touched her back and realized that her muscles were incredibly tense.

"Nothing is wrong. She is merely in labor." Castiel stated neutrally.

Sam looked up with a start. His eyes darted to Bobby and Dean, who were similarly surprised.

"What? You sure? Isn't her water supposed to break or something?" Dean asked in a slightly fast, anxious flurry. This was basically the same scenario that he'd been worrying about when Sam had first brought Ruby into Bobby's house several nights earlier.

"Statistically speaking, it is actually relatively uncommon for the first—"

"Would you two shut up and try to be helpful?" Bobby snapped at Dean and Castiel, instinctually trying to silence any tangents before they ventured too far, then he turned back to Sam. "I thought you said there was another week or two before she's due?"

"Human gestation periods normally have a wide range of variation. Also, the child may not adhere to human gestational timelines." Castiel began explaining, but it wasn't clear who all was even listening to him.

Sam had picked up Ruby part way into the angel's comment and carried her into the cleaner of the two bedrooms. He gently laid her down on a twin-size mattress. Her body seemed less tense, indicating that she was between contractions. Bobby and Dean hurried in after them, but Castiel followed at a more leisurely pace. Sam knelt beside her and offered a hand for her to hold, but she shook her head.

"I'm pretty certain I'd break your fingers." She smiled weakly. "I might be little, but I can still pack a hell of a punch."

"Yeah, I remember," Sam said as he gently caressed her wrist with his thumb and rested his hand on her forearm in lieu of actually being able to hold her hand.

"Any idea how long this takes?" Dean eyed Ruby nervously.

"Hours—it depends. Did it serious just come on all of a sudden?" Sam asked Ruby.

"I've been feeling weird on and off since the fight." She shrugged.

"Okay, maybe 'hours' is on the high end," Sam corrected.

"Fucking awesome," Dean said as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

Ruby had another contraction, as Sam held onto her shoulders to provide stability and hopefully some reassurance. Bobby and Dean checked the apartment for anything that might be useful, while Castiel just stood around observing the situation. Everyone was a little too panicked to think of a better plan of attack until they knew how far along in the labor Ruby was.

"So much for finding a hospital," Ruby muttered after the contraction.

"Yeah. Well, we'll make do." Sam looked at his watch and tried to estimate how much time had passed between the contractions. Bobby and Dean came back empty handed except for Castiel's trench coat.

"The time between her contractions will need to decrease by at least another minute at which point her dilation should be evaluated," Castiel said in an attempt to be helpful. Everyone in the room looked at the clear authority in the field.

"What do you know about delivering a baby?" Bobby asked.

"Do you want me to list every—"

"Do you know how to do it?" Bobby amended.

"I have seen the process of human birth thousands of time."

"Alright, you're in charge. Tell us what you need." Bobby waved the angel over toward Ruby.

"Whoa! I don't want some angel up in my vag!" Ruby tried to scoot away from Castiel, who stopped approaching her and looked around, uncertain of what he should do.

"It's not really yours—" Dean started to point out, but was cut off by Sam.

"Seriously?"

"I'm just saying that's not really her body so she shouldn't be so—"

"Not the time!" Sam yelled at Dean, then looked back at Ruby. "He might be an angel, but he's a lot more knowledgeable than us. You know it's the right answer."

After a few seconds of consideration, she relented. "Fine."

"So what, do we need some boiled water or something?" Dean asked.

"I will be able to sterilize everything," Castiel replied. "The only thing that I will need is something to wrap the child in. This room is 69°. It is likely that the child will be cold."

Dean took off the button-up shirt he was wearing over his t-shirt and held it out to Castiel.

"Can I borrow your coat?" Sam asked Castiel, who nodded consent. He grabbed the trenchcoat from Bobby and draped it over Ruby's lower-half for modesty, then starting taking off her pants and underwear.

She groaned and hissed at another contraction. When she was done Dean looked at the angel helping a demon through labor and elbowed Bobby.

"This is like the setup to a bad joke."

"Dean, shut up or I will seriously murder you," Ruby growled, causing Castiel to look up over the trench coat at her in concern.

"She's not serious." Sam tried to reassure the angel.

"I'm feeling pretty serious," Ruby muttered as Sam patted her shoulder.

For two hours, Ruby and Dean traded token insults and threats as the labor continued. Sam and Bobby gave up trying to stop them after realizing that it wasn't actually upsetting her and maybe it was at least serving a cathartic function. The contractions became more frequent and intense, eventually impairing Ruby's ability to speak at times. She made do by flipping Dean off between groans when she wanted to conserve effort. After a particularly strong contraction, Castiel looked below the trench coat.

"You should begin pushing," Castiel instructed in flat tone without looking up.

"Shouldn't you be doing a weird breathing thing?" Dean suggested.

"I... don't need... to... breathe!" She yelled through clenched teeth.

"You should continue pushing," Castiel added.

"I... am!" She groaned.

"You most likely will only need to push one more time."

Ruby screamed a string of obscenities in Abyssal at the angel, causing Dean and Bobby to recoil slightly. When she finished, she exhaled while letting her head fall back on the mattress. Sam was checking her exhausted-looking face when the baby started crying. He froze for a moment and swallowed hard.

"If someone would take the child, I can heal her vessel." Castiel held out the small bundle.

Sam reached over and held his daughter for the first time. Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. She looked like any other human baby. A not insignificant patch of light brown hair topped her head. She wriggled slightly in the soft blue plaid flannel shirt, then opened her eyes. Little brown eyes blinked up at Sam's hazel ones.

"Hi," Sam said weakly. He didn't even know what to do with himself; he was so overwhelmed with joy. A smile spread across his face and his heart fluttered with excitement. In that moment there wasn't a single thing wrong in the world. His lips fumbled around the words, but eventually he managed a whisper, "I'm your dad."

One small arm escaped the top of her wrapping. Sam went to tuck it back in, but when he touched it, it grabbed onto his finger. He just sat there staring at her in awe.

"Your vessel is healed, but I left its mammary glands functional," Castiel explained to Ruby.

"Um... thanks."

"Ruby, you want to hold her?" Sam asked, finally temporarily breaking free from his blissful trance.

"In a few minutes. I need to recover for a sec. Anyway, I've been holding her for awhile," Ruby said, though she leaned over slightly to get a better view.

Sam beamed up at his big brother. "Dean?"

Dean looked somewhere between enchanted and terrified, but he knelt down next to Sam. He accepted the little bundle into his arms and awkwardly smiled at it.

"Hi... um, I'm Dean, your uncle." He laughed softly and looked over at Sam. "What's her name gonna be?"

"Sam, that's your call," Ruby said, before adding, "I get veto power though."

"I was thinking Kaylee," Sam whispered without taking his eyes off his daughter.

"You're such a fucking nerd," Dean teased.

"I don't care. I still like it." Sam glanced over at Ruby, who nodded approval.

* * *

"Alright. Bring her over. I want to take a look at my girl." Ruby propped herself up against the wall. Sam passed her Kaylee and she smiled warmly at her daughter. After taking in the moment Ruby blinked, turning her eyes black. Dean flinched, fighting back some weirdly immediate instinct to protect his niece.

"You sure you should be flashing eyes at the baby?" Dean asked.

"It's not like she isn't gonna see them sooner or later," Ruby countered. "Anyway, I want to see what she looks like on the nonhuman spectrum."

"What?" Bobby and Dean asked in unison.

"You guys didn't think black eyes were just for show did you?" Ruby was too busy looking at Kaylee to bother rolling her eyes at Dean. Not that anyone would've been able to tell. "It's a power. You can see all sorts of stuff with them, depending on the demon."

"What are you looking for?" Sam asked. He wasn't nearly as disturbed by Ruby's eyes and sat down next to her on the mattress.

"How much she looks like a demon to other demons and anything else that stands out."

"I could also examine the child for, I believe your kind calls them quali," Castiel offered. "It would be reasonable to assume that divine sight would provide different results than that of an Abyssal."

Ruby eyed the angel for a moment and then nodded consent. He had been able to identify the baby as having a soul before it was even born, so he would probably be able to spot more subtle characteristics than her. Castiel took a few steps forward to get a better vantage point. Ruby looked back down at Kaylee and smiled.

"Hey, kid. I'm your mom, the one that you've been riding around in. I'm gonna take a little peek at you, so try not to wiggle around too much."

Ruby pulled the flannel shirt back a little to reveal more of Kaylee and looked closely at her. Her expression was a combination of curiosity and thoughtfulness, with a hint tenderness. Kaylee stared up at the solid black eyes without any context for their meaning and reached out with one hand. Ruby offered a finger for her to grab, but otherwise continued with the investigation.

"Well, any halfway-decent demon looking at her for a minute with black eyes is gonna know that she isn't quite human," Ruby told the others. "But it's weird. She definitely looks a little demon. She has the eye quali, so she'll probably be able to do black eyes. There's some other markings that kind of look like quali, but I'm not really sure what they means. You don't see this kind of stuff on a demon topside. It's hard to explain…. A little help here angel guy."

"The child may be able to manifest some of the classical physical characteristics of the Abyssal," Castiel speculated. "I am not sure to what extent though. She is not a demon inhabiting a vessel. That is her body, which could either make it harder or easier to manifest those characteristics. Demons can easily alter their appearances in Hell, but are frequently incapable of altering vessels on Earth beyond their eyes. While it is considerably harder to manipulate a physical body, it is not unheard of, and she is more fully integrated than a normal demon. That combined with the unknown variable of Sam's Abyssal qualities, she may be able to manifest more than her eyes."

"What else could she do?" Sam asked cautiously. He was grateful that she was born passably human to most observers, but the idea of her sprouting a pointed-tail during puberty made him nervous for her.

"She's got some markings on her hands, feet, lips, eyes, top of her head, ears…." Ruby listed them off as she spotted the quali. Then she held Kaylee to her chest, and pulled down the flannel shirt. "Angel, you see anything on the backside?"

Castiel just stared at the newborn for several seconds. He slowly tilted his head to the right. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked over at Sam. Everyone watched Castiel's unusual reaction with increasing alarm.

"Use your words," Ruby encouraged.

"She appears to contain trace amounts of grace," Castiel finally said.

"Some what?" Sam asked, worried about yet another complication for his daughter's life.

"Grace. It is the energy and life source of angels."

Ruby looked down at Kaylee a little uncertainly. "She's part angel?"

"No," Castiel corrected. "Trace amounts of grace can be left in a vessel after it has been possessed by an angel."

"She's less than an hour old; how could she have been possessed?" Bobby asked.

"Grace can also pass through bloodlines." Castiel looked at Sam more intensely. "Have you ever heard voices? Possibly before blacking out."

Sam leaned away from Castiel a little. "What? No!"

"It seems likely that you would be her source of grace."

"What about Ruby's body?" Dean suggested.

"Grace adheres to the soul. There wasn't a soul in her body at the time of conception."

"Can't you just look at him and see? It worked on the kid." Ruby looked back and forth between Castiel and Sam, while gently rubbing Kaylee's back.

"The child has... angelic markings, similar to quali, that normally only angels can see and are incorporeal. I believe that being a naturally-empowered creature has allowed her the possibility of manifesting the angelic characteristic the same way that she appears to be able to manifest Abyssal ones. Sam was born human and his Abyssal powers are not nearly as integrated. His ability to physically manifest attributes is likely severely limited compared to the child. If he does contain grace it is not apparent on his surface."

"Is there another way of checking besides just looking at me?" Sam asked with a growing sense of unease about the concept.

"It would require a very intensive and unpleasant process, which would temporarily exhaust my strength. That is why I asked if you have ever heard voices before blacking out."

"Angels talk to their meatsuits?"

"An angel must gain permission to possess a vessel, Castiel explained. "You would have had to consent."

Sam shook his head. "No. Apart from Meg, I've never been possessed—and I sure as hell didn't consent to that." Sam's eyes evaded everyone else's in a flash of shame.

"If that is true, then your grace was inherited from one of your parents."

"Our parents…." Dean paused, processing the implications. "So I might have some of that angel dust in me too?"

"It is possible, but it would have required that the possession occur before you were born. It is also possible that the possession occurred in a prior generation and one of your parents was merely a carrier of the grace." Sam and Dean both frowned slightly at Castiel describing grace as a doctor might describe an illness. "Do you know if anyone in your family was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder? That is the most common misdiagnosis of angelic possession."

"No," Sam said only half-confident. "Our dad didn't talk about our extended family ever."

"Dad wouldn't have let himself be possessed." Dean shook his head. "I don't care if the voice says it's an angel; he wouldn't have said yes."

"John only found out about demons after your mom died. He wasn't a hunter back then. You can't assume he'd think like one." Bobby reminded them.

Sam looked up at Bobby's words and his mouth opened as his brain tried to order his thoughts into clear sentences. "Our mom…." Sam turned to Dean. "She knew Azazel, not the meatsuit he was wearing when he killed her. She recognized him."

Everyone in the room looked at Sam in surprise.

Dean ran through Sam's words in his head, but it didn't make any more sense the second time around. "What?"

"When Azazel showed me the vision of the night he gave me his blood…. It was the night she died. I saw it. She came into my nursery and he pinned her to the wall with his powers…." Sam became quiet recalling the scene, that had given him that same telekinesis. "She wasn't surprised by the telekinesis. I don't think she was scared, not for herself at least. When she saw him, she said, 'It's you,' like she knew him."

There was a silence that lasted a painfully-long stretch while everyone's minds worked through the possible implications. Dean rubbed his stinging eyes, which had teared up slightly from fatigue and unsettling revelations. He'd just started getting his head around all this demon stuff, and now not only were there angels in the mix, but their parents had somehow been dragged in.

Their dad was one thing. He was at least occasionally the topic of discussion. But their mom was almost never mentioned. John and Dean had both often found it too difficult to talk about her without falling into grief. Sam on the other hand had almost no personal connection to her that caused him to bring her up. After she was avenged with Azazel's death, Sam and Dean basically hadn't spoken to each other about her at all.

"She knew something, about all this?" Dean wasn't exactly asking Sam, he was mostly working through it out loud.

Sam shrugged and shook his head, equally confused. "Maybe. At least about some of it. Maybe she let in an angel at one point?"

"She always used to say that angels were watching over us."

* * *

The plan to contact the hunter network was temporarily put on hold while Castiel ventured out of the apartment to collect food, new clothes for Ruby, and baby supplies. As it turned out, Dean was actually the most experienced of them at handling babies. Starting the night Sam turned six-months old, Dean had taken up most of the caregiving responsibilities for his little brother. Kaylee the newborn was a little different than a six-month old Sam, but Dean was also older and wiser. With Sam's help they assembled a shopping list for Castiel and coached him through some of the basics of commercial transactions.

After sending their angel out into the world, everyone needed some time to unwind. Dean decided to take a long overdue nap on the mildew-ridden couch in the living room. He couldn't justify using the queen mattress that was in one bedroom, and no matter how many times Castiel disinfected the twin mattress he refused to lie down where Ruby had given birth earlier that day. Bobby wasn't tired and lacked much to preoccupy himself with, but opted to sit in a chair by a kitchen window keeping watch. He wasn't actually concerned about anyone finding them; he mostly just wanted to give the new parents some privacy.

Sam and Ruby had been told to take the queen mattress since there were two—three of them. Ruby quickly used what was left of the sewing kit to reduce the waistline of her maternity pants as a stopgap measure. She found Sam in the larger bedroom, sitting on the queen mattress. Kaylee wriggled in his arms, as he shifted her in an attempt to find a better position. Ruby took a seat next to them and looked down at the newborn.

"We have a daughter," Sam said softly. The silly grin that he'd had all those month while touching her belly had evolved to the content smile of a proud dad.

"I think that's starting to sink in." Ruby brushed a little wisp of Kaylee's hair away from her face. Smiling at Sam, she then tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. "Looks like she's got your mane."

"As long as she doesn't get my height."

Ruby traced her fingertips along Kaylee's shoulder and arm, eliciting a little shift. A tiny foot broke free from the insufficiently-wrapped bundle. She tickled the foot, which made Kaylee's eyes open, though they didn't know how to focus on anything in particular yet. Ruby looked at Kaylee for a few moments, then her brow furrowed subtly.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, noticing the change in her behavior.

"This is so strange." Ruby shifted awkwardly. "It's like she's mine, but... I don't see myself in her. I like this meatsuit and all. It's just that she doesn't look like me, the real me."

Sam nodded to express that he was appreciating what she said. He rearranged his arms so that he could hold Kaylee in one arm while using the other to pull Ruby close to him. She let herself be dragged a bit, then swung her legs across his lap. Resting her head on Sam's shoulder, she looked down at Kaylee.

"I wish that I knew what you see when you think of yourself. But when I think of you, it's not some meatsuit or some smoke cloud," he told her. "It's you taking on half a dozen demons with a few potions, a knife, and your wits. It's you facing down two angels, or flooding Chattanooga to make me smile. I don't know if you've decided what you want to do, but my betting money is that, if you stay, you'll see more and more of your tempest in her."

"You give her the soul and I give her the storm." Ruby smirked a bit.

"And she has your eyes, or at least the quali for it." Sam smiled.

Ruby blinked her eyes black, then leaned down toward Kaylee and softly said, "She's not even scared of me like this."

Sam took his freehand and tipped her chin up. Her solid black eyes were only inches from his own. He stared at her for an unknown length of time, making it clear that he truly saw her, then slowly cupped the back of her head with his hand. Without taking his eyes off hers, he leaned in and kissed her. They both closed their eyes as their lips parted and the kiss deepened.

Ruby bit Sam's lip when Kaylee started fussing, drawing both of their attention. Sam blushed a little while Ruby shifted her legs so that her left thigh wasn't touching his crotch.

"When we get a bit more privacy, maybe Dean or Bobby could watch her for a bit?" Sam raised his eyebrows hopefully.

"First, we figure out a contraceptive. I don't feel like getting sick to my stomach and huge again." Ruby looked down at Kaylee. "The only reason you're getting away with all that bullshit is 'cause you're cute."


	34. Defying the Odds

Castiel had been gone for roughly two hours when he reappeared in the living room with two large bags of supplies. Sam, Dean, and Bobby were discussing recessive genetics and whether Kaylee's hair might eventually lighten to be closer to Dean or Mary's. All pretenses of gruff masculinity had been thrown by the wayside after Bobby had referred to Kaylee as 'cutie pie' in a voice that was definitely directed at a baby. Ruby was hunkered down at the table trying to work out the design for a spell they could use to communicate with the hunter network, but she took a break to grab her newly-acquired clothes.

"How'd it go?" Dean asked as he approached Castiel, eager to inspect the haul.

"Human social interactions are unnecessarily nuanced." Castiel placed the two bags on the floor unceremoniously and didn't make a move to begin unpacking or explaining what he'd brought back. "I now understand why your people commit homicide so frequently."

Sam raised an eyebrow at the angel from across the room. "You were making a run to the store?"

"If we could turn on the news right now would the headline be 'trench-coated man kills eight over onesie and yoga pants?'" Dean swept his hand in a gesture indicating a news-ticker on the bottom of a television screen, causing Sam to chuckle and Bobby to roll his eyes.

"I did not kill anyone."

"That's not evasive at all," Dean said, looking up from his crouched position next to the bags of supplies.

"My statement was intentionally specific." Castiel looked very thrown by the use of sarcasm, but gave up on his quest for insight when everyone just stared at him.

"Somebody write this down; we're adding lying and sarcasm to the list of stuff we need to teach this guy." Dean held up a pack of diapers and a handful of baby clothes. "But first I want my shirt back."

After dressing Kaylee in some real clothes, Sam joined Dean and Bobby in finally getting some food for the first time in over 24 hours—though none of them were really prepared to call it a meal. Castiel had sought food that didn't require the many kitchen amenities that were lacking in their apartment hideout. The only food not resembling a nutritionally-inferior M.R.E. were a few apples. Castiel explained that angels didn't eat, to excuse himself from joining them. Ruby also passed since it was no longer as important for her to eat and she wanted to get back to working on the spell as quickly as possible.

She worked diligently because their only plan hinged on her figuring out a spell that would work, and to her relief the guys seemed to respect her need for focus. Every once in a while she would ask a question about the other hunters to Bobby and Dean or about angels to Castiel, but otherwise she barely stopped except to feed Kaylee. Once she had gotten the basic gist of breastfeeding, she held Kaylee in her non-dominant arm and continued writing drafts with her main hand. When Kaylee wasn't nursing, the baby was back with Sam, freeing up Ruby's full attention to the problem at hand.

After working ten hours straight, she cursed and flicked her pen across the room in something not quite rising to the level of rage. The guys looked at her from the circle they'd formed on the living room. Bobby had found a deck of cards in one of the closets and Dean had insisted that teaching Castiel poker would be an excellent lesson in deception. For better or worse, the angel didn't seem to appreciate the nuances of the three card sharks' performances, but he made up for it somewhat with a superior grasp of probability. Dean had just finished winning a hand with a bluff when Ruby snapped. The men exchanged a quick glance of concern with each other as she took a calming breath, then got up and walked over to their gathering.

"Guys, we have a serious problem." She looked tired in spite of the fact that she didn't seem to need sleep anymore. "I've been going over our spell options and even our best chance is pretty dicey. We have too much interference, would be obvious on the other side, or there's not enough time."

"How much time do you need?" Sam asked, tackling the concept that was easiest for him to wrap his head around.

"For the good options, as time increases, so do the odds of success. Also the odds of negative effects go down. Probably…." She rubbed her neck as she thought. Sam gestured for her to sit down on the couch next to him. She complied and he rubbed her neck and shoulders. "A decently safe spell, maybe weeks or a month?"

"No way." Dean eyed a patch of moss growing on a nearby wall. "We're not staying in this dump that long."

"I don't think we have time like that," Sam agreed. "Things are getting worse out there. Lilith's demons, they've been doing a lot of damage. I've been seeing it on and off since waking up. She might be done breaking seals before we could even warn anyone."

"Anything faster than that…. I don't like the odds." She leaned forward, temporarily interrupting her neck rub to emphasize her next point. "And a fuck-up won't just fizzle out. It would take a lot of juice to break through these wards. Spell failure with that kind of power would carry a high chance of at least one person getting maimed, probably worse."

"When you say you don't like the odds, how bad are we talking?" Bobby asked.

Ruby sighed as her shoulders slumped slightly in an ominously defeated gesture, then answered, "Fifty-fifty, less?"

* * *

Everyone quietly processed the latest piece of bad news. By that point it was hard to think of anything that could really shock them and disappointing turns kept coming with such regularity that they didn't pack nearly as much punch. Yet the sum of one struggle after the next had left them all too fatigued to really tackle the problem with any enthusiasm.

Bobby leaned against a wall and closed his eyes in frustrated thought. Castiel sat quietly, relatively unmoved by the revelation. Ruby slouched on the couch and watched Sam, who cradled Kaylee for some minor comfort. Dean pulled a quarter out of his pocket and held it up thoughtfully.

"Anyone feeling lucky?" He asked as he flipped the quarter, caught it in midair, then slapped it onto the back of his left hand. His right hand continued to cover it as he looked over at Sam.

"Heads," Sam said after a few seconds, playing along with the demonstration of the bleak chances.

Dean lifted his hand to peek at the result. "Tails."

"I know this might come as a shock, but luck has never really been my thing." Sam smiled weakly at his own attempt at using humor to lighten the mood, but it seemed a little too poignant to get any laughs.

"Who needs luck when you can see the future?" Dean muttered in an attempt to make Sam's rough history seem less like a forecast of future misfortune. He spun the quarter on the wood floor, but didn't bother to see which side landed up.

"How far does your precognition extend?" Castiel asked, drawing everyone's attention.

"About a week is the most warning I've ever had," Sam answered, then realized that the angel wasn't asking for purely academic reasons. "But I can't control it. What I see, when I see it, or for how long—it's all passive."

"Sneaking a peek would be a neat trick," Ruby admitted.

"Too bad we can't point the lens in any particular direction," Dean complained.

"Actually a variation on that plan might be feasible," Castiel replied. The others turned to look at him in confusion. "Angels have a different relationship with time than other creatures. With some effort, we are able to bypass portions of it."

Ruby sat up from her reclined position on the couch to stare at the angel. Bobby also straightened himself and opened his eyes, drawn back from his own thoughts. Dean looked to the others as he tried to figure out if he had just correctly understood what Castiel had said.

"You can time travel?" Dean could hardly believe the sentence had come out of his mouth, but a lot had been hard to believe lately.

"It is difficult, but possible," Castiel confirmed. "I am also capable of sending others to another time. If we are considering observing the future, then I would suggest that someone other than myself go."

There was another pause while everyone struggled to accept that Castiel seemed to actually be floating the idea. He was even getting into strategy a bit, though the logistics of time travel weren't familiar enough for anyone else to appreciate the merits of his suggestion.

"If you're the one that can control time traveling…." Sam ventured into the conversation, but wasn't entirely comfortable with the phrasing. "Wouldn't you be the best person to send?"

"The act of bypassing time will be debilitating to me without the strength Heaven had previously provided. It would likely injure me, leaving me vulnerable for one or more days. If I send someone else, I can recover safely in this time and retrieve them several days later."

"We're seriously talking about time travel?" Ruby asked.

"Is this really so much stranger than everything else that's been going on?" Sam shrugged.

"It's fucking time travel." Ruby threw her arms up a bit before crossing them in front of her chest. She chewed her lip anxious while shaking her head. "Our lives are like Dark Shadows and this just took a turn into some Twilight Zone shit just now."

"What's Dark Shadows?" Dean asked.

"Nevermind, you're too young to—"

"Dark Shadows had time travel," Bobby commented a little indignantly.

"Bobby, you watched—" Ruby began, grinning reflexively, but Bobby hastily interrupted her.

"Can we get back to the serious discussion?"

"A serious discussion about time travel." Dean huffed a false laugh while pitching the bridge of his nose. "Are we actually thinking about this as an option?"

"It would be nice to be one step ahead for a change," Sam muttered.

"Just a thought, but why aren't we talking about sending someone back in time to stop things from getting this bad in the first place? They could just…." Bobby trailed off as he realized that he wasn't sure where they should begin altering the the past.

"In addition to the challenge of determining what is causally relevant, there are numerous paradoxes that could occur. It is very likely that any attempt to change your past would prove futile overall," Castiel explained.

"How is us changing our past different than us changing our future's past?" Sam spoke slowly to make sure he didn't screw up his wording, then reran the question in his head to be sure.

"Assuming that we are successful in changing events, the timeline would diverge from the earliest point of significant deviation. Altering the past would put us on a timeline that no longer exists, creating a paradox," Castiel explained. "In theory if one of us traveled to the past, then they might not experience the effects of the paradox, but they would be trapped there if their former timeline had been altered out of existence. If the earliest point of significant deviation occurs tomorrow, then we will simply follow that altered timeline."

"This is basically Doc Brown with the chalkboard in 1, right?" Dean asked his brother.

"I think so," Sam replied.

"But we're going first half of 2, right?"

"I think so."

"And Castiel is our DeLorean?"

The angel scowled subtly. "I am not a car."

* * *

Their discussion was briefly interrupted by needing to change Kaylee. Sam took the opportunity to show Ruby and Bobby what Dean had taught him a few hours earlier. While the others were distracted with the baby, Dean decided to ask the angel something that was bugging him. It wasn't particularly important in the grand scheme of things and he didn't want to derail the planning session, but as long as they were already distracted he might as well ask.

"How does an angel that was talking about fate come up with the idea to try to change the future?"

"Just because it may be difficult or even impossible does not mean that we should not try." Castiel's voice and demeanor was pure conviction. It filled Dean with a combination of awe and caution. "Maybe altering the future is God's will?"

"Have you ever met God?"

"No."

"How do you know that God exists?" It was a sincere question. As much as Dean questioned the existence of God, he was respectful of Castiel's belief, probably more than any other being he'd ever met. The guy was an angel after all. But he just wanted to understand why the angel felt the way he did, especially without having seen God himself.

"I have been told so by my siblings who have interacted with our father," Castiel replied.

"And you just believe them?" He didn't mean for the question to come off as insulting, but Castiel didn't seem to take offense.

"Yes."

"Why?" Dean continued to press.

"They are my brothers and sisters; why would I doubt their word?"

"First of all, I'd like to point out one of your brothers is Lucifer." At his observation, Castiel glanced down at the floor in a strangely human reaction. Dean felt a little guilty for touching upon what seemed to be a matter of shame for the angel. "Also, I don't know how long you've been watching me and Sam, but I can write fucking annals of all the times and ways we've bent or broken the truth with each other."

Castiel looked back to him with an expression that Dean thought barely resembled hope. "And yet you trust him?"

"It's not easy." Dean shrugged his shoulders a bit. "But yeah, with my life."

"Why?"

"Because he's my brother…. I love him, even if he does drive me crazy." Castiel sat in quiet contemplation of Dean's words. "It's a little hard to tell with the fight and all, but do you have any brothers or sisters like that? "

Castiel thought of his sister Anael. Her leadership was inspirational, both in her strength and eventually in her compassion. She had been an outlier as long as he had known her, but she had kept her uniqueness hidden to everyone except her closest... friends? He hadn't even really been surprised when she fell and that had caused an unsettling feeling in him. For a long time, Castiel had wondered if he could've stopped her by either talking her out of it or turning her over to a superior. But he hadn't.

"I do not know. One of my sisters…. She fell not long ago. I knew that she was different. She did not hide herself from me. I suppose she trusted me with her life." Castiel's bright blue eyes couldn't meet Dean's. "I do not know if I would have done the same with her. Recently, I have felt…. I... feel that that is... regrettable."

Dean's eyebrows raised slightly at Castiel's confession, not because he was judgmental of the angel not returning his sister's loyalty, but instead because Castiel felt guilt over it. He wasn't an expert on angels by any means, but regretting the lack of conviction to defy authority seemed to be a measure of personal growth. Maybe there was hope for the dopey, little angel yet?

* * *

"So, assuming this is the best idea we have, who all is going?" Ruby asked as they rejoined Dean and Castiel. Sam took a seat back on the couch, while Ruby perched on an armrest.

"A single person would be easiest for me to send and result in the least loss should the attempt fail." The second half of Castiel's statement carried an oppressive weight to it that gave everyone pause.

Kaylee whimpered softly while stretching her arms out of her wrap. Sam rocked her gently and offered her a finger to grab. Appeased, Kaylee rolled toward Sam's chest and fell back asleep. Sam smiled down at her for a second before returning his attention to the group, which had been watching him.

"I'm going," Dean announced as he looked at the new parents. "You two aren't going. That leaves Bobby and me. And, no offense Bobby, but I'm in better shape to be heading into the unknown. Also, for whatever reason the angels want to keep me from dying. So, hey, that might come in handy."

"Dean…." Sam struggled with what to say, but Dean waved his hand, dismissing any objection Sam might give.

"We all know I'm the right choice for this kind of insane stuff. Mystery, danger, getting my ass thrown somewhere by something that's not human— It's basically any other job," Dean joked in an attempt to lessen the gravity of the situation. No one did him the disrespect of pointing out the additional risks related to entering the unknown. "So how far should I go? A week? A month?"

"While there would be merit in focusing on our immediate actions, it might be wiser to arrive at a further date," Castiel suggested. "It is reasonable to assume that as time passes from the date of your disappearance, the fewer resources Heaven will be allotted to locating you. Unlike Sam and myself, you are not a criminal in the judgment of Heaven."

"I thought, as the Righteous Man, Heaven wants to watch over my ass," Dean speculated.

"Your protection is a priority, but you are not monitored continuously. It is similar to the protection afforded to prophets. When you are within close proximity of an archdemon or are critically injured Heaven is alerted and an appropriate response is dispatched. The only reason you were brought to the attention of Heaven two days ago was because the Archdemon of the Crossroads was detected.

"As such, I believe that you would not be actively pursued beyond the near future. Furthermore, a longer timeframe would provide a greater opportunity to observe the actions of Heaven and Hell. I think a more advantageous date would be five years from now."

"I thought we were trying to find a way out of here. How is he supposed to figure out what spell might work or not if he's years after the fact?" Sam had grown slightly more worried at the prospect that Dean might be going further ahead than a month or two.

"Probably the same way I'd do it if I was only a month ahead. Find us and ask?" Dean guessed.

"Or you could talk to the other hunters in the network. If Heaven is still looking for us, we'll hopefully be hard to find," Bobby added as an alternative.

"And you'll bring me back after three days?" Dean wasn't feeling particularly optimistic about the plan, but it was beginning to lose some of its edge. He was resigning himself to the situation and trying to convince himself that it really was just like a job. All he had to do roll with the punches and gather intel for a few days.

"Yes. No matter where you have traveled to on Earth, in five years and three days I will retrieve you," Castiel told him. "But you must be on Earth. Do not die or otherwise travel to either Hell or Heaven."

"Don't die. Check." Dean smiled nervously. "Piece of cake."

* * *

Dean had always hated goodbyes and in spite of the obvious risks he didn't want to treat what was about to happen as a one-way trip. He gently patted Kaylee's head, then hugged Sam and gripped his brother's shoulder, reluctant to let go.

"It's silly, but something that I've been thinking about…. Mom used to sing 'Hey Jude' to you—I guess both of us—as a lullaby. You know, in case you can't get her to sleep." A vulnerable smile flickered on Dean's mouth, but his eyes were candidly remorseful. Of all the things that he could say to Sam, that had somehow seemed the most important. The idea that even if something happened to him, that Sam would carry on the strange little tradition he had built up in his mind over the last few days…. It gave him some level of comfort.

"You stay safe for a few days and you'll be right back here." Sam tried to be reassuring. "You're probably a better singer than me anyway."

"Yeah. I'll be back to stop you from butchering it." Dean smiled, then lay down on the queen-size mattress and took a deep breath. After looking at his little brother and niece one last time, he tilted his head back.

Castiel leaned over him and placed his hand on Dean's forehead. "It is 1:45pm on the fifteenth. Remember that I will retrieve you at 1:45pm on the eighteenth."

"2014, here goes nothing," Dean managed before the world fell out from under him.


	35. O Brave New World

Dean rolled over on the lumpy, bare box springs of the bed he'd fallen asleep on, and noticed the mattress was missing. Looking around he realized that Castiel must've succeeded in sending him forward five years. The others were no longer standing around the bed; in fact it looked as if no one had been in the room for a long time.

As decrepit as the apartment had been before, it looked like the building was in a state of absolute ruin. A thick layer of dust and filth seemed to cover every surface of the room. Dean stood up, knocking all sorts of allergens into the air. He coughed repeatedly and peered through the small amount of hazy light that shone in the only-partially-unobscured window. Rubbing his already-watering eyes, he walked toward the exit, but only made it a few feet into the living room before the rotted wooden floor gave way under him. He managed to tumble with the fall to break his impact, but his lower back landed awkwardly on a small pile of wood.

After taking a moment to check himself for injuries, he got up and tried to wipe the grime off his clothing. Even though it was the early afternoon, the windows were coated with enough dirt and mildew to dim the entire interior of the building. He brought his arm closer to his face to try to identify the little thing moving along his sleeve. With a tiny cringe Dean hastily brushed the spider away. When he fully extended his arm in the sweeping motion he felt the unmistakable sensation of spiderwebs sticking to the back of his hand.

"Really?" he muttered to himself as he squinted to try and see where the web was so that he could avoid it.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness his heart sank. The top three feet of the room was covered in webs. When he'd fallen through the ceiling he'd dislodged a significant portion of the webbing, which hung down around his little bed of rubble. In all the chaos, dozens of spiders were scurrying along the webs and quite a few ran across the floor in search of cover. He didn't generally have a problem with spiders, but dozens of spiders was pushing it.

Dean covered his face, crouched down to be lower than the spider metropolis, then ran for the apartment's front door. Rather than having to stop and fiddle with the locks and doorknob, he decided that a swift kick would probably knock the door open.

Unfortunately, he overestimated the strength of the door and his foot merely punched through the wood. He teetered slightly on his back foot before falling forward, slamming into the door with his upper body. The door gave way and he fell clumsily onto a tiled patio. After frantically knocking away several large brown spiders that had joined him part-way through his escape, Dean caught his breath and tried to refocus on the job.

He needed to get to a computer, hop online, and catch up on current events. From there he would try to locate some of the members of the hunters network, who hopefully would know what had happened to his group or at least any major developments with the angels and Lilith. Ellen and Jo were his first choice, then probably Jody Mills even though she wasn't technically a hunter. Failing them, he had at least a dozen hunters' contact information committed to memory thanks to spending months helping coordinate their efforts. As the picture came together, he could try to move in from the periphery a bit. He had three days to find out everything he could.

To Dean's surprise it was incredibly easy to steal a car. The neighborhood seemed abandoned; half the homes were falling down from rot. The whole greater New Orleans area, where it turned out their apartment-hideout was located, was actually below sea-level and famously at risk for flooding during hurricanes, but only if the levee system weren't operational. He felt lucky that it wasn't hurricane season because the high-water-marked buildings and collapsed structures told him that there had been a major problem with the infrastructure in the area not too long ago. It took him a few minutes to find a truck that through some miracle still ran, then he headed toward the downtown area.

His heart began to sink as he drove five minutes without seeing signs of another living human…. Ten minutes…. Fifteen minutes. He expected to find abandoned cars in gridlock headed out of the city like in some horror movie, but didn't. Several improvised roadblocks were set up at major intersections, but each seemed to be in just as bad a state of disrepair as everything else. Occasionally, he thought that maybe it would be safer to sneak around quietly rather than riding through the city in a truck, but there was so much ground to cover and literally no signs of active life beyond a few dozen crows.

The downtown was silent. It was chilling to think that over two million people had lived in the area, and now it was a ghost town. He pulled over at a grocery store, and decided to look for a newspaper. Pistol at the ready, he reminded himself that headshots killed zombies, then scoffed at his own fear. What a cliché would he be if he really did have to face a horde of zombies?

He opened the door to the store. The shelves had been stripped clean with the exception of broken items, which were now caked in mold. The magazine shelves were equally sparse. But as he turned to leave he saw a message spray-painted on the wall of a building across the street.

"Repent for Heaven has chosen this land to be cleansed of sin and sorcery."

Dean carefully approached the graffiti and recognized that he was on the border of downtown and the French Quarter. He'd spent three blackout-filled Mardi Gras in the French Quarter, a highly publicized capital of sin and sorcery if he'd ever seen one. His stomach sank a few inches as he reread the ominous message.

He ran a handful of blocks to the northeast, then froze. Tens of city blocks had been burnt to the ground some time ago. Blackened frames of buildings and piles of brick were beginning to grow over with vines and moss. Walking through the ruins, he turned into what must have been Jackson Square because it was in front of the only building still standing in the French Quarter, Saint Louis Cathedral.

The cathedral had several broken windows and a significant amount of graffiti on it. Red spray paint had been covered with several other layers, but Dean could make out the image of a large red cross. He wondered briefly if it had been converted to an aid center at some point, yet purple spray paint warned, "It's a trap." For a second his curiosity whispered for him to check inside, but he quickly thought better of it when he saw the rest of the park.

Apart from its location compared to the cathedral, the park was unrecognizable. Instead of a lawn, there was a single large mound covering the entire block-sized park. From several hundred feet away he knew what it was. There was no flesh left on the bones to provide the trademark stench, but he knew.

Dean fell to his knees. He didn't know if he wanted to cry or vomit. He did both. Something had gone very wrong and he had no idea what. Still shaking, Dean got back to his feet. He would grab a car and drive until he found people.

As he searched for a car that seemed to be in decent shape he heard a snap behind him, maybe thirty or forty feet away. He whipped around, aiming his pistol toward the sound, but didn't see anyone. The sound had come from the remains of what was probably a cafe. Several large industrial appliances were melted or rusting among metal chair and table legs that had lost their wooden surfaces in the fire. Dean kept his gun fixed on the area that the snap had come from, but silently sidestepped to gain a different view without getting any closer.

The cloud cover shifted, allowing a little of the afternoon light to come through. One of the still-standing refrigerators in the suspect area cast a shadow that caught Dean's attention. The shadow's silhouette included a person crouching behind the fridge... and it looked like they were holding an assault rifle.

Dean froze. The other person clearly knew he was there, or at least that he was in the area. Calling out to the person could go either way and he decided that he'd rather miss a possible connection than risk a shootout against a semi-automatic. He quickly looked around for a safe avenue of retreat. There was a nearby route that would provide decent cover and at least get him pointed in the direction of the truck he'd arrived in. Dean picked up a rock and threw it over where he'd been standing when he heard the snap.

As soon as the person's shadow turned toward the sound of the rock, Dean ran for cover. He ducked behind a car, then rushed towards an alley that still was partially protected by half-standing walls. His footing slipped on a pile of bricks, but he managed to correct himself without losing much speed. The sound of footsteps ran after him, but he didn't risk slowing down to look back. He zigzagged to make himself harder to hit at a distance.

About one block from the truck, he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. A woman with short red hair in a green jacket was running parallel to him. She slid over the hood of a turquoise sedan and used it to steady what looked like a hunting rifle in his direction. Dean shot at her twice to provide himself some suppressing fire while he got behind a lone support pillar. He waved a piece of debris into her field of view, but she didn't shoot at his feign. Fearing that the first person would soon be flanking him, Dean made a break for the cover of a van roughly fifteen feet away. As he ran, Dean noticed that the woman wasn't crouched by the car as she had been a second earlier.

Once he was behind the van, he took a few breaths. She was out there somewhere and the person with the assault rifle could be bearing down on him any moment. The truck was only about a hundred feet away, but there was barely any cover.

He ran for it. After about twenty feet he heard some rubble shift to his right. He fired in the direction of the sound, but kept moving. About ten feet further he heard the sound of a gunshot and noticed the bullet impact the wall in front of him and frighteningly close by. He turned slightly to avoid a large rock, when he heard the second shot.

For a moment Dean thought that he'd been punched by a pursuer, but when he spun around and fell to the ground he realized that there was nobody that close to him. He looked down at his body and saw two patches of dark red spreading over his shirt. He dropped his pistol and tried to apply pressure to the wounds on his side, but the more blood he lost, the less strength he had. His head dropped backward, awkwardly coming to rest on some crumbling bricks.

His top priority during that job was to stay alive for three days and in less than a few hours he'd managed to get shot twice. He felt like an idiot. Granted, it would've been pretty farfetched to assume that shit would be that bad. Maybe staying alive for three days was a feat in a place like that?

* * *

"You all saw it; he shot first. I'm still clean."

Dean heard a woman speak to his right and turned his head toward her voice. He saw the red-haired woman and an Asian man that had tattoos covering everything but his face casually walking toward him.

"Mazel tov. Let's just re—holy fuck!" shouted the man.

The pair ran to Dean's side after getting a good look at him. They both knelt down to see how bad his injuries were.

The woman pulled a short-range walkie-talkie from her jacket, then ordered, "Bones, circle for anyone else. Fox, get the truck. We're getting him out of here. Now!"

While radioing the others, she reached for Dean's wounds. He was confused about what she was planning on doing to him. After all, he was pretty sure she'd been the one who shot him. But he didn't have the strength to fight her when she moved his hands. He didn't have much strength for anything… and his vision started to fade.

Dean heard some rustling, and a large vehicle approach. He was picked up off the ground, then things became foggy. An unknown amount of time later he opened his eyes to realize he was lying in the back of a covered truck bed. The red-headed woman was kneeling next to him applying pressure to his gunshot wounds. Two other people sat in the truck bed with them, but Dean couldn't make out their features.

"How much farther?" the woman yelled through the small window into the truck's cab. Someone inside the cab shouted an answer back to her and she looked down at Dean. "Come on. Just keep it together for a few more minutes."

He wanted to reply with some cute one-liner about not going anywhere, but when he tried to talk it just came out as a strange raspy gurgle. She smiled down at him. His cloudy brain didn't bother keeping him apprised of his current circumstances beyond the fact that a beautiful woman was smiling at him…. But she had a smear of blood on her cheek. He tried to reach up to wipe it away, but she quickly shifted, ready to act if he was going to try something. Another set of arms held him down without difficulty. As he tried to move his hands, Dean realized that he was in manacles. He tried to get up, but several hands held him down and a dull pain in his side intensified.

"We should tranq him," suggested one of the men holding him down.

"How would we even know what to give him? He's borderline on passing out anyway. We're not giving him drugs until we know what's going on," the woman said as she continued to apply pressure.

"But, Sarge, look at him."

She leaned in to take a closer look at Dean's face. "Don't worry. He'll survive, and if not then he wasn't worth us saving to begin with."

* * *

Dean was walking down a wooden pier that extended across a serene lake. He had been fishing there once, when he was thirteen. Bobby had taken him and Sam there while their dad was on a week-long hunt out of state. It had been their little secret, a weekend away from the world of hunting.

Looking around he'd expected to see Bobby carrying a pair of rods and a tackle box or Sammy running around with a juice box in one hand and a paperback in the other. Bobby and Dean had done most of the fishing while Sam had just lay on the pier in the sun, occasionally reading interesting passages from his book aloud. Dean remembered that on that trip Sam was reading a book about pirates—probably Treasure Island or something.

But Bobby and Sam weren't there…. They were somewhere else... somewhere unpleasant. That filthy little apartment. He had left to go get some useful information. This wasn't really happening. The pier, it was a dream or memory. Well, not really a memory; he'd never actually been alone out there. This place was a source of comfort to him, and he'd gone there in dreams occasionally, but that was before Hell. Since then, even his nicest dreams seemed to turn….

Dean's pulse began to rise as he looked around, waiting for the beauty to be burnt and torn away before his eyes. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his neck. He didn't want that sanctuary in his mind to be violated by any of the traumatic memories. The thought of watching that wonderful place be destroyed made him turn and run toward land.

He reached the dirt path and kept running. Beyond the unpaved parking lot. Beyond the picnic tables. Beyond the small grass field. Passing into the forest, where he and Sam had once played hide-and-seek against his better judgment. A hundred feet past the treeline he leapt over a fallen tree, then dropped to the ground. He pressed himself against it and tried to be as silent as possible.

Something was chasing him. He remembered the woman with the short red hair. She'd been chasing him earlier, but this wasn't her. It was something more powerful and terrifying... and strangely familiar. He couldn't tell if it was a memory from Hell breaking through and he didn't want to find out. The thing was getting closer; it could sense Dean as much as he could sense it. Instinctively, he knew that hiding wouldn't work, so he started running again.

The forest blurred around him as his recollection of that South Dakota forest failed and his imagination had to compensate. The snapping from the leaf-and-twig-covered ground soon became the slapping sound of running on wet stone. He didn't want to look down. He already knew the liquid was blood. As he ran, he sensed the claws and metal hooks reaching out to grab at his flesh, missing by less and less distance with every attempt. Tears ran down his face and his lungs burned. A hook caught his right Achilles tendon and he tripped. Crashing to the ground, he cringed, expecting to land on the blood-covered stone of a dungeon floor or a bed of blades—but it was only fresh grass.

After a moment Dean opened his eyes to see that he was lying in an aisle of an old cemetery. He slowly stood up and took in the scene. To his knowledge, he'd never visited that cemetery, either on a job or to pay respect. A wrought-iron gate creaked as it swung in the wind and several crows cawed as they flew overhead. In spite of the presence of a gate and the birds, who could come and go as they pleased, Dean felt the strange sensation that he would never be able to leave that place.

He walked through the rows of headstones, but found that he couldn't make out any of the names. Even when he crouched down, with his eyes only inches from the carving, it was incomprehensible. His fingers traced the individual letters and he mouthed out the words, but something wasn't connecting in his mind. He gave up on trying to investigate the details and opted to see if anything could be gained by an intuitive approach. Cautiously walking through the aisle of headstone, he tried to take in the entire bizarre experience.

Dean began running his fingers along the top of the headstone as he walked. On the fifth one he touched he immediately knew it belonged to his father. The realization made him shiver. They hadn't buried their father. He received a traditional hunter's pyre and his ashes had been unceremoniously scattered. The only thing resembling a burial was that Sam had placed John's dog tags below a patch of grass on Mary's grave. He had no headstone, no memorial to his life... except his sons.

The burden of that responsibility weighed on Dean. His dad had been a great man—one of the best hunters of their time. And his entire legacy rested on the shoulders of his two sons... though Sam had never taken that responsibility as seriously as Dean had. Sam had eventually given up at trying to meet their father's impossible standards. But Dean still struggled with being the kind of man necessary to honor his father—yet at the same time he was trying to accept Sam in a way that their dad had seemed incapable of. At times that conflict felt like a failure on Dean's part, that he wasn't the type of man he should be…. Sometimes he wasn't even sure what type of man that was.

His hand recoiled from his dad's headstone and he looked at the others trying to understand what was happening. Even though he couldn't read the words he started to understand that every grave before him belonged to a member of his father's family. The collection extended into the distance, back to some point of significance that occurred long ago.

He turned around to see three headstones marking unfilled graves, apart from the rest. The middle of the three headstones had its name gouged out. Dean squinted in a futile attempt to read the erased name from all the way at the foot of its open grave.

"Do not concern yourself with him," said a voice that reverberated in Dean's very core. "He is already lost."

Looking up, Dean saw a being that he could barely conceive. He knew it was so much more, but his mind struggled to find a way to convey it. The result was something that resembled a human, neither male nor female. Its individual features changed if Dean tried to focus on them for more than a few seconds, but he knew in his soul that no matter what iteration he was seeing, this creature was fiercely beautiful.

It wore an ornate set of plate armor that appeared to be made of gold, but Dean knew it was harder than diamond. It wielded a flaming hand-and-a-half sword with a gold hilt. Elegant golden wings spread out from its back, reaching a span of maybe thirty feet. With each flex of the wings, Dean felt a sensation of power pulsate and wash over him.

The creature placed one armored foot on the defaced headstone and pushed it into the open grave. Walking over to one of the two remaining graves, the creature placed a hand on the headstone. Dean shuddered as he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, but there was no one beside him. He realized the creature was touching his headstone.

"I have been looking for you for quite some time." The creature spoke with an almost patronizing tone. "If you would tell me where you are, it would make everything much easier."

Dean thought back to being shot. He'd been in New Orleans... in the French Quarter. The creature gripped the headstone tighter and Dean could feel its anticipation. He resisted the creature and that train of thought. It wanted to know where he was, possibly where he'd been, and his instincts screamed against disclosure. Something was wrong. A lot of things were wrong, but this creature... it was the thing chasing him. It was hunting him.

"Do not fear me, Dean," the creature said, sensing his raising panic. "You and I will do great things together. You will see that in time. It is our destiny."


	36. That Has Such People In It

Dean woke up in a large metal cage. He was lying on his side, partially curled up in the fetal position. His torso didn't hurt anymore, but he still started gingerly checking for injuries, only to stop when he noticed the weight on his forearms. His wrists were in manacles that were each attached to a two-foot length of heavy steel chain, which were bolted to the concrete floor. The cage was about seven feet in each dimension and housed in the center of a small one-room building.

The building looked worn, with rusted corrugated metal walls and a doorway that was covered by little more than heavy canvas cloth. It wasn't as warm or humid as it had been in New Orleans, which was a relief in the compact metal building. The only piece of furniture in the room, aside from the cage—if that could be considered furniture—was a wooden table. There were no chairs in the room, which Dean found strange because there were two other people sitting in the room with him.

A lean black man with a two-inch afro peppered with a few silver hairs and a goatee sat cross-legged directly in front of Dean, but outside the cage. His pants and boots appeared to be military, but he wore a badly-faded black t-shirt featuring a spiky pink ball and an even older-looking, slightly-oversized, tan jacket. Three necklaces hung from his neck; two carried pendants and one was a silver locket. The visible parts of his arms and neck were covered in tattoos that looked like runes. He was grinding something with a mortar and pestle.

On top of the wooden table sat a woman with pale skin and brown hair that reach her mid-back. She had dark brown eyes that were watching Dean like he was a bomb about to go off. She wore military-style boots, cargo pants that seemed to be reinforced with strips of heavy leather, a plain black t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. An old scar cut across her right cheek, and she wasn't wearing any jewelry except for a necklace that matched one the man was wearing. She wasn't doing anything aside from watching Dean and sitting with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered while pushing himself upright.

"Not quite," the woman replied.

"Sorry about the restraints, but we have to take precautions," the man apologized without looking up from his work for more than a second.

"You guys shot me and chained me up. It kinda seems like I should be more worried about you than the other way around," Dean countered.

He was pretty upset and felt justified in giving these people as much shit as possible, but he held himself back from actively picking a fight. After all, he was the one chained up in a cage, but more importantly, he was alive and fully healed, which seemed surprising the more he thought about it. These people, or someone, had saved his life and he didn't want to make them change their mind(s) before his three days were up.

"You have to understand, you were wandering around in a hot zone," the man continued, trying to excuse the circumstances. "You're pretty lucky actually. They would've just left you there except for you looking like you do…."

"Looking like what?"

"Like Dean Winchester."

Dean paused for a second. This guy knew who he was—or at least who Dean Winchester was. The man put down the pestle, drew a lighter from his jacket pocket, and lit the contents of the mortar. He blew out the fire, but the bowl kept smoking slightly, then slid it toward Dean.

"The question is, what are you?" the man said as he looked up to meet Dean's eyes. "We've tested you with iron, silver, largus root—all the usual tricks, and you've checked out so far."

Dean felt conflicted. On the one hand he didn't know who these people were and whether they were trustworthy. On the other hand he was at their mercy and out of options besides waiting the three days until Castiel retrieved him. His instinctive reaction was to be as obstructive as possible, but he felt... tired. A strange calm started to creep into his mind and he thought maybe time had slowed down slightly. Dean gazed down at the smoking mortar and frowned weakly.

"You're drugging me…." His head drooped an inch or two. "That's cheating."

"Maybe, but I'll try to spare you too much embarrassment. What species are you?" The man's tone was a combination of reassuring and focused. He seemed to be making a concerted effort not to be any more threatening than he needed to be, which Dean noted.

Dean scowled, a little offended by the question. "Human."

"What is your name?"

"Dean Winchester."

The man glanced back at the woman, who shrugged. He tried again. "What name were you given when you were born?"

"I told you, Dean Winchester."

"What were you doing in New Orleans?"

"I was looking for help... or information about where to find help."

The man leaned forward to look at Dean with a newfound curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"I'm supposed to find out what happens, so that we know what to do."

"Who's 'we'?"

Dean couldn't stop himself from rattling off the list. "Me, Bobby, Sam, some angel named Castiel, a bitch demon named Ruby, and my niece."

The woman hopped off the table and stood behind the man's left shoulder. Her posture reminded Dean of a soldier at ease. He began to suspect she was the man's bodyguard, but Dean couldn't see any weapons on her.

The man pressed forward with the questioning. "What do you mean by 'find out what happens'?"

"That angel, Castiel, sent me forward five years to get a sneak peek at the future so that we know who we can trust and what to do."

Apparently he had said something that the two of them found very interesting because the man turned to the woman for her reaction. The woman spoke to the man in a language that Dean didn't recognize. It didn't even sound like a romance language. The man nodded while releasing a soft sigh, then replied in the same language. They spoke for a minute and based on the conversation's tone, they were both concerned about something.

"What's going on?" Dean managed to ask through his stupor, but the other two didn't seem as compelled to give up information.

"Did anyone else come with you?" the man asked after finishing the conversation with the woman.

"No."

The man covered the mortar with his palm and whispered a few words. The smoke stopped as Dean's head began to slowly clear.

"I'm sorry about the smoke, but we had to get straight answers—"

He was interrupted by what sounded like a sudden gust of wind and wings flapping. Dean saw the canvas door ripple from the breeze. Two men began talking outside, but he couldn't make out their words.

"Shit," the woman said as she walked toward the door. "I'll see if I can take care of—"

But she was cut off when a man entered the room. His sandy blonde hair was short, but messy. He had unnaturally bright blue eyes, subtly pronounced cheekbones, and pale stubble along his jaw. There was a strange beauty to him despite the fact that he looked like he didn't own a mirror. He wore the same boots as the others. On his hips were two holstered pistols and what looked like a sheathed sword was on his back. His light grey jacket and pants were an unusual design that appeared to have light armoring on the outside of the limbs and chest. The jacket also had an extra panel of fabric that was almost a foot wide, which extended the length of the back, but was open on the sides. He stopped just inside the doorway and stared at Dean with a completely neutral expression that seemed oddly familiar.

"You're supposed to be CAG on the perimeter," the woman told the newcomer in a tone that clearly conveyed her disapproval.

"I put Moriel in charge. She's more than capable, especially during a ceasefire," the blonde man replied. The woman appeared to be his superior officer, but not by much if he seemed so calm rebuffing her complaints. "What is he?"

"As far as we can tell he's the real deal—or some variant of the real deal," answered the man on the floor cleaning up the mortar and pestle.

"He's human?" The blonde man tilted his head and took a few steps toward Dean. Once he was a little closer Dean realized that the newcomer was younger than his rigid behavior had initially led Dean to believe. He must've been in his late teens or early twenties.

"How many people know about this?" the woman asked the kid while gesturing at Dean.

"It's already on pirate radio. That's how I found out while on duty."

"So much for playing this one close to the chest," the man sitting on the floor complained.

"Talial, come in here," the brown-haired woman yelled, causing a short woman who must've been guarding the door to enter. She looked normal enough, but Dean felt his blood cool when he saw that she had an angel blade holstered at her side. He realized that Moriel and Talial sounded an awful lot like Uriel and Castiel. Maybe all angels names ended in L... but that didn't fit with Lucifer. In any case he wouldn't have been surprised if the woman was an angel, which posed the question of what these other people were. The blonde kid talked about being human like it was something unexpected, but maybe he was thinking of something more mundane like a shifter.

The shorter, possibly-angel woman stood at attention in front of the brown-haired woman.

"I want you to go work crowd control on this situation," directed the brown-haired woman. "We can't have news of him getting out or we'll have a real mess on our hands."

"Yes, ma'am."

As Talial left, she didn't bother to address the men at all. Dean was beginning to suspect that the brown-haired woman was a higher ranking military figure in this organization. Though he noticed that her two apparent subordinates were both armed and she wasn't. It was possible that their group was big enough that she didn't actually need to fight or maybe she just wasn't geared up. The blonde kid had said something about a ceasefire.

This psuedo-military vibe reminded Dean of how Castiel talked about his garrison. That combined with the woman sporting the angel blade and all the angelic sounding names continued to give Dean a sinking sensation. He decided to just be direct about the situation.

"So, what," he asked his three captors, "I've been grabbed by angels?"

"Actually, the squad that nabbed you was two humans, a ghoul, and a demon." She made the comment without looking at Dean; she was too busy watching the blonde kid grimly.

Dean's face scrunched up slightly at what must have been a bizarre attempt at a joke. There was something about her that he didn't like, aside from the fact that she was one of the people keeping him in a cage. "Listen, lady. I've been through a whole lot of shit in the last few days. I'm sore as hell, and I don't know what the fuck is going on. So don't start making jokes. I saw the angel's blade and those names sound awfully angelic."

She stepped forward and squatted to be at eye-level with him. Her stare was incredibly intense, so much so that Dean felt he might have recoiled slightly. She had a presence that could command authority and she definitely had experience using it.

"I'm not joking." She was visibly frustrated by his accusation.

The man on the floor waved her off and tried to calm the situation. "Alright. Let's have a civilized conversation like we're all adults. Dean, you might find this hard to believe, but we're on your side."

"Really? Because I'm not getting that vibe." Dean rattled his chains.

"I think the situation is a bit confused. We need to make sure we're all on the same page before we figure out how to proceed."

"That doesn't sound ominous at all," Dean muttered, interpreting 'proceed' as possibly including dumping his corpse.

"What date was it when you left?" the man on the floor asked.

Dean furrowed his brow, confused by the question. He had already told him that he was sent from five years earlier. "December 15, 2009."

The three captors exchanged looks of surprise and interest.

"Well, there's your problem. On December 15, 2014, New Orleans was blacked out," the woman explained, then leaned over to the man sitting on the floor next to her. "I told you something was off."

"Was 'blacked out'?" Dean mouth went dry around his words. He had no idea what 'blacked out' meant, but 'was' he recognized with rising fear.

"In 2013, Heaven dropped the equivalent of a magic E.M.P. on an 800-mile diameter section on the southern United States, including New Orleans. No magic in that whole area until it fully wears off," explained the man on the floor.

"You missed your target," the woman added. "It sounds like you skipped along the timeline like a rock on the water until the anti-magic aura wasn't strong enough to keep you out."

"What?" Dean whispered.

"Welcome to December 15, 2039."

* * *

Dean's heart started pounding and he suddenly felt light-headed. He had been relying on being brought back by Castiel, who would be searching for him in December 18, 2014. He was twenty-five years past that and had no idea how he was going to get home.

"You okay?" the woman asked in an unexpected display of concern. "You look a little green."

"I was supposed to get brought back from 2014…. He's not gonna know where to find me." Dean tried to take a few calming breaths, but they weren't doing much for him.

"What do you think Dyl? Do we even have enough juice to throw him back thirty years?" she asked the blonde kid, who considered her question for several seconds before answering.

"One way or another we could probably make it work," Dyl speculated. "Kali would know better than me."

"We'll have to get her advice anyway on how to get him back without paradoxing the world out of existence or something like that," said the man who was finishing packing up his mortar and pestle.

"I'll ask if she can meet with us in the next few days," Dyl told them. "She'll be very interested to see what's happening."

Dean stared at his captors and blinked in disbelief at their willingness to get him back home. "I don't get it. Why are you people helping me? Who are you?"

The three of them exchanged looks, uncertain of how to react to Dean's questions. The two men ended up deferring to the woman, who shot them a look as if to call out their cowardice and shook her head. She huffed a little laugh, then smiled at Dean.

"I shouldn't be surprised you don't recognize me." Her posture turned in slightly, for the first time betraying a lack of confidence. "The last time you saw me I was only a day or two old."

Dean stared at her in confusion that slowly transformed into shock. She looked like the meatsuit Ruby had been using with a few small differences. Her hair was a lighter brown, reminiscent of Sam's, and she had his nose and smile—when she did smile. She also seemed taller than Ruby had been; actually considering that her military style boots lacked a heel, she must've been about 5'10". For a moment Dean considered that maybe one of the reasons he had initially disliked her was the strong resemblance to Ruby.

Dean opened up his mouth, fumbled on his words, then managed to whisper, "Kaylee?"

"That proves it. He's really Dean! Only the folks and Uncle Dean call me Kaylee." She grinned at the other two men. She decided to clarify her statement after seeing Dean's dumbfounded expression. "Most people call me Kay, if that."

"Most people call you 'ma'am,'" Dyl corrected.

"I mean people that actually know me."

Dean was barely processing what had just happened. She was his niece, but she was thirty years old... almost the same age as him. She seemed to be taking it all a lot better than he was. Her comfort level with the insane situation made him feel even more concerned about what kind of a world he'd walked into.

"So, Cas sent you forward to get some ideas on what to do—" She began, but Dean interrupted her.

"Cas?"

"Castiel." She looked perplexed for a moment and then realized what the issue was. "Oh man. You've only known him for a few days. I guess you haven't given him the nickname yet."

"I give him a nickname?" Dean's eyebrows rose. "The nerdy, little angel in the trench-coat and I become friends?"

Kaylee looked at the other two men unsure how to respond. The blonde man's lips thinned and the other man shrugged helplessly. "Yes... you two are best friends," she answered. "This is so weird, giving you a future history lesson."

"Aren't you worried about 'paradoxing the world out of existence'?" Dean didn't know if he should be covering his ears for fear of causing the universe to implode. He suddenly regretted not asking Castiel about a thousand more questions before agreeing to their stupid plan.

"You've already seen enough to probably screw things up. We might as well just go with it for now. If there's any risk of damage from talking to us, we can just wipe your memory before you go back," Kaylee suggested. "The whole clusterfuck-realization-events are probably just when you're actually making the jumps."

"Those would be the highest moments of risk," Dyl confirmed.

"Let's check with Kali before we risk Dean meeting Dean, just to be safe," the other man added, earning a nod of agreement from Dyl.

"Wait. I'm still alive?" It hadn't occurred to Dean that he would live to be sixty years old. He'd always assumed that he'd die young on the job… again. If anything, Sam was the one he had pictured— "Is Sam alive?!"

"You're alive. Dad's... alive. Mom and Cas too." Kaylee waved a hand in a gesture vaguely indicating a group of people somewhere else.

"Bobby?" Dean asked weakly, knowing that that would put Bobby in his late-eighties at best.

"Sorry. No…. He... went out fighting." Kaylee frowned slightly in understanding that that was hardly a comfort. After a moment of unpleasant remembrance, she looked up with a little more enthusiasm. "In your time do you know Tom?"

She gestured to the black man, who was getting up from the floor. He smiled at Dean hopefully, but Dean shook his head.

"No, I don't know any Tom," Dean replied.

Kaylee exchanged a meaningful glance with Tom, then turned toward Dyl. "This is Dylaniel or Dylan. He's…." She looked over at the blonde man unsure of how to introduce him.

"I'm Kay's second-in-command," he explained flatly.

"Wait, command of what?" Dean asked.

"The North American branch of the Army of the Free Earth," Kaylee said matter-of-factly. "Welcome to the Apocalypse."

* * *

 _December 15, 2009 1:15pm_

 _Everyone quietly processed the latest piece of bad news. By that point it was hard to think of anything that could really shock them and disappointing turns kept coming with such regularity that they didn't pack nearly as much punch. Yet the sum of one struggle after the next had left them all too fatigued to really tackle the problem with any enthusiasm._

 _Bobby leaned against a wall and closed his eyes in frustrated thought. Castiel sat quietly, relatively unmoved by the revelation. Ruby slouched on the couch and watched Sam, who cradled Kaylee for some minor comfort. Dean pulled a quarter out of his pocket and held it up thoughtfully._

 _"Anyone feeling lucky?" He asked as he flipped the quarter, caught it in midair, then slapped it onto the back of his left hand. His right hand continued to cover it as he looked over at Sam._

 _"Heads," Sam said after a few seconds, playing along with the demonstration of the bleak chances._

 _Dean peeked at the result and told everyone, "Heads. We didn't get blown up."_

 _"Now if only we could keep up the good luck," Bobby muttered._

 _"Holy fuck. That could make the difference." Ruby sat up as the cogs in her mind started spinning. "If we make a luck spell in advance, it could knock out some of the spell failure risk. The luck spell doesn't have to get through the interference of the wards and it can be obvious because it'll be contained to the immediate area. It might take a few days or so to design, but that's better than weeks or months and it could make this whole thing less suicidal."_

 _It took a few hours for Ruby to work out the extensive list of spell components and equipment she needed to try making a luck spell. She explained that the overall process could take several attempts since the odds of executing a luck spell were low, but at least failure didn't cause any damage, only lost time. The irony of needing luck in order to create a luck spell didn't escape any of them. After Castiel returned with her supplies, she began laying out some of the components on the table._

 _"Hey, could one of you give me a hand with this?" Ruby held up a plastic baggie of mummified mice for the guys to see._

 _Dean kicked his feet up on the couch and grinned to emphasize how committed he was to not partaking in any activity involving dead rodents. Sam handed him the baby as a consolation responsibility, then joined Ruby._

 _She drew a series of runes on the table in chalk while Sam timidly cut the feet off the mice. Ruby had started instructing Sam about the tails when she stumbled slightly to her right. Her arms reached out for the tabletop, but couldn't quite grip it for stability. She knocked over several bottles, one of which fell to the ground and shattered._

 _"No—No! Argh!" She hunched forward clutching her chest as she cried out in pain and anguish. Sam immediately stopped what he was doing and grabbed her to provide support. After a second she looked up at him with solid black eyes. "It's the coven. Something's wrong. I can feel it."_

 _"Angels might be attacking it," Castiel suggested. "It is likely they would attempt eliminating parties that would give you and Sam quarter."_

 _Ruby was shaking and Sam couldn't tell if it was from pain, shock, or anger—likely all of the above. She pulled away from him, rushed around the table, grabbed one of the two angel blades, then disappeared. Sam looked around frantically. He knew that she had said she had a duty to protect them, but he had no idea that she'd be willing to potentially jump into a fight with an unknown number of angels. It was reckless, but he couldn't just let her get herself killed._

 _"We have to go get her!" Sam pleaded with Castiel._

 _"Sam, you can't just chase after her!" Dean stood up in alarm, still holding Kaylee._

 _"It's Ruby!"_

 _"But they're—" Dean began, but Castiel and Sam were gone._

* * *

 _Castiel and Sam appeared in the clearing between several of the coven's houses. They were on the southeastern edge of the camp, away from the more active northern side that had the barn and community building. As soon as they had touched down it was clear that something was wrong. A significant plume of black smoke rose from one of the far houses, smelling like ozone, and a crackling noise came from an indistinct location._

 _Thirty feet away on ground was the body of a woman. Sam ran over to her and rolled her over to see if she was alive. Her face was frozen mid-scream, but all insight into her fear was gained by the shape of her mouth. Her eye sockets were hollow and scorched. He felt for a pulse, but found none._

 _"She was smote," Castiel said as he walked past him toward the main part of the camp. "There is nothing we can do for her."_

 _Sam stared at the dead woman for a moment longer, transfixed. That was what Uriel had tried to do to him. The angel had tried to smite him. He'd somehow managed to defend himself and had even killed Uriel. He only hoped that he could figure out how to do it again. Castiel held their remaining angel blade and he was left to make do with his powers, as unpredictable as they might be. But he wasn't scared for himself. Somewhere out there was Ruby and who-knew-how-many of the coven needing their help._

 _He got up and flexed his empty hands as he followed Castiel between the quiet buildings. After a few seconds they could hear the sound of fighting and a man scream. Rushing around the corner, they found a scene that made Sam sick and enraged._

 _The central clearing was littered with over a dozen bodies. Only a few feet to his right was the edge of the vegetable garden that Tom had taken so much pleasure in showing him a year earlier. Now it was practically a graveyard. Between the rows of vegetables were four children with empty eye sockets. Parts of the soil were deeply gouged and burnt, giving the distinct impression that some of the witches fought back. In fact, one of the bodies was unfamiliar and instead of having his eyes burnt, his skin had a blue tinge to it._

 _Castiel hadn't slowed down at all while passing by the bodies. He walked with purpose, looking out for other angels while searching for Ruby or any other survivors. Sam was trying to fight through his shock, but it was difficult. When he found Pascoe, he fell to his knees. Small curls of smoke were still rising from the holes were Pascoe's eyes had been. His left palm was intentionally cut open, probably for a spell._

 _As Sam was looking at his friend's body, two angels appeared in the clearing. Castiel yelled a warning to him while parrying an attack. Sam turned just in time to see the second angel reaching for him. Rolling out of the way, Sam's anger mixed with adrenaline and he telekinetically slammed the angel into the mud. He lunged at the attacker, landing on the angel's chest, and gripped his throat. Two different instincts fought for dominance in Sam. The human side of him crushed down on the angel's windpipe, while the other side of him wanted to burn the angel alive from the inside out. Light glowed below Sam's hands as the angel spasmed, unable to cry out. Light shone from the angel's eyes and mouth as the his body went limp and a pair of charcoal wings marked the ground._

 _Castiel had landed the killing blow on his own opponent, and looked over at Sam in time to see him use his new power on the angel. The sight was somewhat alarming, though Castiel couldn't fully understand the reasons for his feelings. Another angel appeared beside Castiel and nearly landed a hit while he was distracted watching Sam. Sam got up and moved to help Castiel when the sound of a child screaming came from nearby._

 _"Go!" Castiel yelled as he blocked an attack._

 _Sam ran in the direction that the scream had come from, but he couldn't find its source. He passed another group of bodies that included two children. It wasn't clear how long they'd been dead. All the bodies were fresh. The screaming child could've been one of the two in front of him, or it could have run away or hid somewhere…. Sam turned and ran for the barn._

 _He dropped through the already-opened trapdoor into Tom's 'secret fort,' landing behind an angel. The angel turned to face Sam, who placed his hand on the angel's chest. Brilliant light came from her eyes and mouth before her body collapsed to the dirt floor. Beyond the body, Belda knelt with six small children huddled around her._

 _"Sam?" she whispered._

 _"Castiel, I need you!" Sam hoped he would be heard. After a second's delay Castiel appeared before Sam. "Get them to safety."_

* * *

 _Dean had been pacing the small, dingy apartment while Bobby tried to busy himself with Kaylee when Castiel teleported into the apartment living room. He was about to throw up his hands and yell at whoever had returned when he saw that the angel was accompanied by a young woman who was surrounded by six children, including two infants she clutched to her chest._

 _"You will be safe here. I must return to the fight," Castiel told the woman before disappearing with no further explanation._

 _Dean looked down at the woman and kids. He hadn't been expecting kids. When he thought of a coven, he thought of old witches, not children. The woman wasn't even old; she was probably in her early twenties. Her face was steeled, but Dean could tell that behind the act she was terrified. The children were crying or frightened into complete silence. Dean crouched down in a non-threatening gesture._

 _"I'm Dean, Sam's brother. It's okay. You're safe here."_

* * *

 _Sam ran to the community building, carefully stepping to avoid several bodies while crossing the clearing. He wanted to stop to check if anyone lying on the ground was alive, but by then he knew that angels wouldn't merely injure. Turning into the social hall, Sam saw an angel looking at the floor. Gabin's body was at her feet, eyes burnt out of the sockets. Sam ran in and mostly dodged her attack with an angel blade, only suffering a small cut on his left shoulder. He killed her with one luminescent grasp, dropped her, then knelt down beside Gabin. Sam ran his hand over his face in grief. His palm came back damp with tears and blood. He didn't know when he'd started crying and the way that the taste of blood fell into his lips he suspected that using his powers had caused another nose bleed. He wiped his face quickly, then made to get up and continue looking for Ruby when he heard a noise._

 _A quiet rustling came from a cupboard a few feet in front of him. He crept forward and opened the door slightly. Tom was curled up in the cramped space. His arms were wrapped defensively around his head and his whole body was trembling. He peeked between his hands at the sound of the cupboard door opening._

 _"Sam!" Tom squeaked in a startled gasp._

 _"Listen, I'm going to get you out of here." Sam looked around the room, which was blocked from Tom's view by the cupboard door. "I need you to do something for me. I'm going to carry you. I need you to hold onto me and keep your eyes shut. Can you do that?"_

 _Tom nodded. Sam leaned forward and scooped up the young boy. Tom wrapped his arms around Sam's neck, then pressed his face into his rescuer's shoulder. Sam held him in his arms, but supported him in such a way that his right arm could still be used in a pinch. Sam stood and started making his way out of the room._

 _"Just keep your eyes shut until I tell you it's okay to look," Sam whispered as he carried Tom past his dead father and the bodies of a dozen coven-mates. Sam turned a corner to find Ruby. She had some blood on her and held a large tome._

 _"Did you find anyone else?" she asked._

 _"I had Castiel take some back to safety. Did you?"_

 _His question only earned a shake of her head. He didn't know what to say to her._

 _Ruby looked faint. Of course she did. Not only had she lost friends, she'd lost people under her protection—and on some additional level she'd actually felt it._

 _Castiel suddenly appeared next to them and said, "It is likely that more angels will be arriving soon."_

 _"I don't feel anyone else." Ruby referred to her connection to the coven. "I think we're it."_

 _"If this child is the last survivor, then we should leave this place, "Castiel suggested._

 _Sam thought about trying to cover Tom's ears, but it was too late. He took one last look around the once peaceful little community before they teleported back._

* * *

 _In spite of the woman and the traumatized children taking refuge in the large bedroom, Dean had fully intended to yell at Sam for running off, but he stopped himself when he saw that Sam was holding a young boy. Sam sat down on the awful couch and hugged the kid for a few long seconds._

 _"Tom, we're safe," Sam said softly. "You can open your eyes."_

 _But the boy didn't look. He just kept his arms wrapped tightly around Sam's neck._

 _Sam gently patted his back. "Tom, I need you to do me a favor. There are other kids here with Belda. She's going to need help taking care of them. Do you think you can go help Belda?"_

 _He felt Tom nodding. When the boy looked up at Sam, his eyes were pink, but his expression was resolute. Tom climbed down and walked into the other room, which emitted the quiet sounds of whimpering children. Sam looked down at his shirt and noticed two damp spots where Tom had been crying._

 _The concern and outrage that Bobby and Dean had felt at the reckless move was quickly replaced with sympathy for the devastation of everyone around them. Castiel was unreadable, but he did not make eye contact with anyone._

 _Ruby placed the tome down on the table, then clutched a glass bottle so hard that it shattered in her hand. Sam hurried over to her and tried to check her bleeding hand. She was too upset to let anyone help her, so she pulled her hand away from him, but didn't otherwise retreat. He wrapped his arms around her to embrace her. She thrashed with rage and helplessness, but eventually she let herself be held and cried into his chest._

 _Dean tried to say something reassuring after the painful silence. "At least you saved the kids."_

 _"The coven had fifteen kids," Ruby said._

 _Dean did the math in his head and cringed._

* * *

 _After Bobby spotted Sam struggling with his powers-induced nosebleed, Sam had been instructed to take the smaller bedroom and get some rest. For two hours he lay awake on the twin mattress with Kaylee sleeping on his chest. He'd lost several friends that day—and those were just the ones he'd known about. Castiel had said that the angels would go after anyone who would be likely to give him and Ruby shelter. There were dozens of people that might be on Heaven's hit list because of him and he had no idea where they were to warn them._

 _While he was deep in unpleasant thoughts, the door opened slowly and Tom tiptoed in. The boy approached the side of Sam's bed, then silently lay down on the floor._

 _"Are you okay?" Sam whispered._

 _There was a little shuffling sound and Tom peeked over the edge of Sam's bed. "I couldn't sleep." He looked down in embarrassment. "I… I had nightmares."_

 _"It's okay. Everyone gets nightmares, but you're safe here." Sam tried to reassure Tom, but knew that it didn't mean much after the day he'd had._

 _"Could I sleep in here?" Tom asked quietly._

 _He didn't quite know how to respond, but nodded. Tom lay back down on the floor. Sam looked around the sparsely furnished room, sighed, then scooted toward the side of the bed that was against the wall._

 _"Tom, you can get in the bed."_

 _The boy climbed onto the tiny portion on mattress that was left. Sam felt a little awkward sharing the bed with a six-year old, but he wasn't about to let the kid sleep on the disgusting floor. After a few minutes, Tom fell asleep hugging Sam's side._

 _For several hours Sam lay there, Kaylee sleeping on his chest and Tom sleeping next to him. He thought about all the destruction that had been caused or might be caused because of him. His family and friends were struggling to find resources that might be dying at the hands of angels at that very moment. They didn't have a long-term plan or a safe harbor sufficient to accommodate the six adults and eight children in the apartment. With their contacts potentially being hunted by angels, they didn't have days to try to improve their luck._

 _After Tom was deep asleep, Sam carefully climbed off of the mattress, only stirring the boy slightly. He stood alone in the negligible hallway for a few minutes holding Kaylee. When he was ready he kissed her tiny forehead, then went into the living room. Ruby walked up to him to see how he was doing, but before she could ask, Sam handed Kaylee to her. Holding the back of Ruby's head with one hand, Sam kissed her deeply. Bobby, Dean, and Castiel all stopped talking and turned to look at the strangely affectionate display._

 _"I'm sorry," Sam apologized to Ruby, who looked up in confusion at him. "I'll be back as soon as I can."_

 _Sam reached into his pocket and withdrew Crowley's talisman. He smiled sadly, then clenched his hand around the metal disc._

 _"Wait—" Ruby tried to stop him, but Sam disappeared._


	37. The Beginning of the End

"The Apocalypse?" Dean couldn't believe what he was saying. "Like the end of the world?"

After seeing New Orleans, he knew things were bad, but that was almost unbelievable—almost. He reassessed his idea of what was possible when he realized that he had just woken up thirty years in the future. There were probably going to be a lot of strange discoveries to come, so he tried not to completely freak out during the first ten minutes.

"There's more to it than just some big abrupt end," Kaylee explained. "It's not like one day a ton of people got raptured and the rest of us got rained on with fire. It's been a pretty involved process."

"I think officially this is… what, the tenth year?" Tom guessed while getting up and stretching after sitting on the concrete floor for what must've been at least an hour.

"Eleventh," Dylaniel corrected. "It's December already."

Tom ran his fingertips along his mustache and goatee before muttering, "We're too old for this." A smile flickered on his lips as he glanced around the one-room building quickly to see if anyone else was watching, then wrapped an arm around Kaylee's shoulders, pulling her into a half-hug. He made a little show of looking at the hair on top of her head.

"You can stop checking, Tommy. You're the only one here going grey so far." She laughed and playfully elbowed him before he let her go.

Dean watched their interaction and felt a little uncomfortable at the realization that he didn't know the nature of their relationship, which seemed to be something more than professional. Their matching necklaces caught his attention again, with a new, unknown significance. He suddenly began to appreciate just how much he didn't understand about not just this world, but also the people in it.

* * *

 _December 16, 2009 10:30am_

 _Ruby sat on the shabby couch rocking Kaylee anxiously. In the two hours since Sam had left, no one had really discussed his leaving because there wasn't anything to say. It was obvious where he'd gone and they couldn't do anything to change that. Ruby was the only one that had the ability to go to Hell relatively safely, but she didn't know what the situation was down there and if she'd be able to get to Sam, let alone return topside. At that point they had to wait and see if he'd be allowed to return…. If not, they'd have one more massive problem to deal with._

 _Tom silently came out of the bedroom where Belda and Bobby were trying to wrangle the other children. He looked briefly at Dean and Castiel, who were talking about which angelic choirs were combat trained, then inched away from them. He crept up to Ruby and climb onto the couch next to her. He had been incredibly withdrawn since being rescued sixteen hours earlier, but he seemed a little more at ease sitting next to a familiar face._

 _"Is that your baby?" he asked after quietly watching the newborn for several minutes._

 _"Yeah. Her name is Kaylee." Ruby managed a small smile. She was grateful for the distraction and conversation that didn't revolve around the angels who had slaughtered their family hours earlier. She lowered Kaylee slightly and turned her body to give Tom a better view._

 _"How old is she?"_

 _"Just a few days."_

 _"She has a lot of hair."_

 _"Some babies do," Ruby replied. "I think you can blame that on Sam. He's her dad."_

 _Tom nodded as he processed the information. Whether he understood genetics or where babies came from, she had no idea. He looked around the room thoughtfully and Ruby wondered if she'd accidentally brought up the painful facts that neither Sam nor Gabin were with them. She tried to think of something comforting to say, but Tom spoke first._

 _"She doesn't know what's going on?"_

 _"I think it takes a while before babies really start understanding stuff, but I could be wrong." Kaylee slept in apparent peace, which seemed to lessen the subtle look of concern on Tom's face. "She's not going to be doing much for a while; mostly she'll be resting."_

 _"I've met babies before. They need a lot of help until they're bigger," Tom commented in a very matter-of-fact tone. After a thoughtful pause, he looked up at her. "Can I help you?"_

 _Ruby was a little surprised by the offer. She'd expected Sam and, to a lesser extent, the adults to be some source of support, but she hadn't expected a six-year-old to volunteer. Tom had been something of a leader among the children at the coven, but now that things had become serious he was apparently really stepping into the role of guardian._

 _"Sure. Do you know how to hold a baby?" she asked, causing Tom's expression to turn a bit uncertain. "That's okay. See how I'm doing it."_

 _Dean had been watching the conversation from across the room while Castiel had continued to talk at length, unaware of his audience's distraction. When Kaylee was placed in Tom's arms, Dean walked over and sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of the boy. Tom leaned back slightly and watched him nervously._

 _"I'm Dean, Sam's big brother." The boy looked a bit confused by his claim to be bigger than Sam, so Dean explained, "I'm Sam's older brother. When I was a little younger than you, I helped take care of him as a baby."_

 _"You must've been a buff four-year-old hauling a baby giant around," Ruby joked with a softness that betrayed her concern, fatigue, and gratitude that she wasn't having to expend the mental effort to trade insults with Dean._

 _"He actually was a runt until around sixteen. Kids at school used to tease him for being small. I guess he showed them." Dean smiled at the thought, then looked at Tom. "If you adjust your left arm it'll probably be easier to hold her. Can I show you?"_

 _Tom nodded and Dean reached over. He shifted Kaylee's head slightly, allowing the boy's arm to relax a bit more. Tom looked down at Kaylee with a slightly furrowed brow._

 _"Are we really safe here?" he asked._

 _"For now. Those symbols on the walls are wards that are hiding us from those angels." Ruby said as she gently patted Tom's back._

 _"They weren't hunters?"_

 _Dean's lighthearted guise was rattled by Tom's assumption. It was a strange feeling to be faced with the flip side of a hunt. A week earlier, he'd been mentally adding Ruby's coven to his bucket list—now he was nearly horrified at the suggestion that hunters could have committed the massacre. Maybe the boy didn't see any of the fighting or maybe he didn't know what hunters were like? It was surprising to think that Sam, who the boy seemed awfully attached to, hadn't corrected his misconceptions about hunters…. Granted, maybe Sam had never told Tom that he was a hunter._

 _"No. Hunters are just people." Ruby answered, taking some pressure off of Dean. "The things that attacked the coven were very powerful creatures. The coven didn't know how to defend against them, but we're safe here now. I'm sorry we couldn't get there sooner, Tom."_

 _Ruby's eyes watered and her lips thinned. Dean tried not to look at either of them for fear that he'd also succumb to his feelings of guilt or pity. Tom leaned against Ruby's side and she wrapped an arm around him. After a long period of quiet, Tom looked up at Ruby._

 _"Where's Sam?" His voice was concerned, but not scared._

 _"He went to talk to a powerful demon to ask it for help," Ruby answered._

 _"Is the demon a nice demon?"_

 _"That's a good question."_

* * *

 _Sam found himself seated in a small, windowless office of sorts. The walls were made from light grey stone blocks that fit together nearly seamlessly. The room was just big enough to comfortably hold its limited furnishings: two floor-to-ceiling polished walnut bookcases, one six-foot-wide polished walnut desk, two matching guest chairs, and a more ornately carved polished walnut chair behind the desk. Sam was seated in one of the guest chairs, which felt a bit hard and too small. Crowley sat opposite him in the larger chair._

 _"I'm so glad you could make it." The archdemon greeted him with a broad smile. When Sam shifted in his chair, Crowley snap his fingers and he suddenly found the chair to be much more comfortable for no obvious reason. "Sorry about that; I forgot to dehex those chairs after my last appointment."_

 _"Thanks." Sam was trying not to sound too snarky. He was there to ask for help, after all. "I need your help. My family's in trouble and I'm ready to deal if it means they'll be safe."_

 _"I'm sure we can work out something."_

 _"There are angels after us."_

 _Crowley nodded as he thought for a moment. He seemed to process the statement better than Sam had expected. When he finally did speak, he was perfectly calm and collected. "Angels complicate things a bit, but we may have some protections against them."_

 _"You knew about the angels?"_

 _"Not with any certainty, but when a creature attacks my territory you can bet I'll start doing my homework." Crowley's voice only revealed a hint of resentment at the violation before switching to a more reassuring tone. "Hell's defenses against angels have been increased considerably since the attack. I doubt an angel could last a minute down here, if it could get in at all."_

 _Sam dwelled briefly on the 'here.' He'd expected to go to Hell when he had decided to meet with Crowley, but it was another thing to do it. He looked around the room again, taking it in with newfound curiosity._

 _Crowley observed the reaction and smiled mischievously. "Did you expect it all to be fire and brimstone?"_

 _"I don't really know what I expected." Sam thought back to all the times Ruby had told him about Hell. Each time he had realized just how wrong his assumptions had been. Now he was struggling to just take the experience as it appeared._

 _"Tell you what, I'll give you a little tour of the Citadel—that's where we are—and maybe a bit of Central District. We'll skip the racks and all the unpleasant bits that your imagination is no doubt filling in. You get to see all the behind-the-scenes excitement and while I'm showing you around we can chat a bit. Then afterwards we can really get down to business."_

 _"I'm in a hurry." Sam felt tenser with every new pleasantry. He'd already wasted too much time debating whether to come at all. Now that he was there he needed to get it over with fast._

 _"Time moves differently down here. On Earth you've only been gone a second or two." Crowley tried to put his mind at ease. "You can afford to look around. If you agree to my terms you will be spending some time down here. You should at least know that it won't be spent over burning coals."_

 _Sam's desperation was becoming obvious, but he almost didn't really care. Lives were potentially on the line. "The angels could be hunting down my friends right now. I don't have time to go sightseeing."_

 _Crowley thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. A blank sheet of parchment and a black fountain pen appeared on the desk in front of Sam._

 _"List the people you're interested in providing protection for in the interim. I'll send out the scouts to find them. If they're still alive, they'll be moved somewhere safe until we finish our business here. Fair enough?"_

 _"They'll be 'moved,'" Sam repeated, eyes narrowing slightly. "You're going to abduct them?"_

 _"That's one way of looking at it. Another is that I'm rescuing them." Crowley smiled, but his eyes were completely indifferent. "I imagine most of your friends won't be keen on demons knocking at their door, but I really don't care about their feelings. Any that we can save we will, but you're right that we won't be asking pretty please."_

 _Sam thought about the indignity and chaos that might ensue, but compared to the risks of not accepting the offer of help…. He began listing a dozen hunters and the handful of other contacts he'd met through Ruby. As an afterthought, he added the names of two college friends that he occasionally kept tabs on. If the angels were as tech savvy as Castiel had mentioned there was a risk of the friends being found in his recent search history on the laptop he had left at Bobby's house._

 _As he started running out of names, he paused and slowly moved his hand to cover the list in hesitation. Crowley was watching him with something more than casual interest._

 _"You're going to use them as hostages." It wasn't a question. Sam knew that was exactly what he was giving up._

 _"If necessary," Crowley admitted. "But wouldn't you rather be bargaining for their lives than just forfeiting them in the first place?"_

 _Sam pushed the completed list across the desk in resignation, then hastily added. "And I want any of the surviving members of Ruby's coven given the same treatment. I don't know their names, but I imagine you can figure it out."_

 _"Maji deals aren't as well documented as Crossroad deals, but we'll see what we can manage." The archdemon snapped his fingers again and the list disappeared along with the pen. "Now that the searches are underway, we can get back to business—"_

 _"How long will it take?" Sam anxiously interrupted._

 _"Unfortunately, hunters can be difficult for us to locate or access at times. It might be hard to forcibly remove a hunter if there are salt lines or an anti-possession tattoo. That combined with the time difference…. I wouldn't expect to hear any news for at least a few hours our time, so you should try to unwind. Which reminds me—where are my manners?" The archdemon snapped his fingers again, summoning a platter of food, a decanter of an amber liquid, and two glasses. "Go ahead and have something. I know you're famished."_

 _It was true. Sam had skipped a meal in order to give up his food to the children. Before that he'd only had two very sorry excuses for meals in the last two days. He didn't want to show anymore vulnerability or even really gratitude in front of Crowley, but he had no idea how long he'd be stuck down there. It was technically within his power to suffer through his hunger on principle, but he wasn't sure how much being stubborn would gain him._

 _"How did you know that I'm hungry?" Sam asked as he warily grabbed a finger sandwich._

 _"In Hell, with enough experience you can feel the pain radiating off of people. Different types of pain feel different," Crowley replied._

 _"Must be useful in negotiations," Sam commented between bites._

 _"It's delightful." Crowley unstopped the decanter and poured himself a glass. "Scotch, or do you have another drink of choice?"_

 _"Just water." The last thing he needed was to drink hard alcohol on a nearly-empty stomach. Crowley grinned and nodded with approval at the wisely cautious answer. Sam ate another small sandwich, then realized how much better he was feeling. "Why are you being nice to me?"_

 _"We both know that if you're desperate enough to contact me, then you'll likely say yes. The question is how much I can get out of you," the archdemon explained with the confidence of a villain in the final act of a James Bond film. "I'm willing to wager that I could gain more in the long term by making you happier and giving more in negotiations than by squeezing you for all you're worth right now. You already want to kill Lilith, and the angels are after you. I think you'll be surprised to find that team Hell isn't so far from where you stand currently. So I'm being nice because I think it will pay off in the end. If you prove to be needlessly uncooperative... then I'll need to rethink my technique."_

 _Sam nodded in understanding. He was being manipulated through politeness, partially-veiled threats, and his own weak bargaining position. Crowley wasn't trying to enslave him; he was trying to recruit him._

 _Sam's academic curiosity was starting to embrace the otherwise-disconcerting small talk. "How often do you use the carrot instead of the stick?"_

 _"Only when I don't want to leave any bruises." Crowley sipped his scotch with a little twinkle in his eye. "And bruises are traded so frequently in Hell that they're practically currency down here."_

 _"I thought your currency was souls—or is the act of torturing as valuable as the soul it's being inflicted on?" Sam had always thought of damned souls as the main goods of Hell, but he hadn't really considered what purpose they served or the relevance of the torment inflicted upon them._

 _"This conversation is about to peek behind the veil," Crowley purred as he straightened in his chair with renewed interest. "Which I'll allow conditioned on a small agreement: many of the things that you see or hear about are extremely confidential—"_

 _"You want me to promise to keep it secret?" Sam guessed._

 _"No. That wouldn't prevent you from still screwing me over if you wanted to. Instead, the small agreement is that: if we don't reach a formal agreement and alliance by the time you leave here, then you will have all of your memory between the end of this sentence and your departure from Hell erased. Okay?"_

 _"Do I have a choice?" Sam asked, a little surprised._

 _"Not if you want my help," Crowley responded coolly._

 _He didn't like the idea of potentially having his memory tampered with, but he couldn't figure out a way around it. "Fine," Sam said through his teeth. He took a moment to unclench his jaw, then flexed his lips, trying to reduce any visible tension—not that it mattered. A few minutes earlier he'd been told that his discomfort was being telegraphed. He was screwed—he should start getting more comfortable with that feeling. It would undoubtedly become a very familiar sensation. "I agree."_

 _The archdemon stood up and walked around the desk. When Crowley started moving toward Sam instead of the door, he briefly wondered if Crossroads demons had to seal every deal with a kiss, but instead Crowley just extended his hand to shake. Sam hesitated for a moment, then took it. A strange tingling sensation moved up his arm from the handshake._

 _"That's the contract being written onto your soul. It's much harder to feel on Earth and the process works differently up there, but it's basically the same idea." Crowley gestured toward the office door. "Shall we go peek behind the veil?"_


	38. Dynamic Bargaining

_Sam found that the Citadel proved true to its name. As he followed Crowley through the labyrinth of unremarkable, grey stone hallways, it took almost no time at all to realize that the complex must be massive. None of the rooms or corridors he had seen contained windows—he wasn't even sure if they were above ground. Granted, he had no way of knowing if Hell had a sky to distinguish the ground. The stone construction gave the entire place the feeling of a fortress or castle that had somehow been designed without a single aesthetic indulgence._

 _"This is the Citadel, the heart of Hell," Crowley explained. "It is about thirty square kilometers—think about half the size of Manhattan. Clearly, I won't be showing you the whole thing right now, but we'll hit a few of the highlights. The Citadel contains all of our administrative activities, most of our archives, and our most fortified locations. Beyond the walls of the Citadel is the Central District, which surrounds it on all sides, creating a large buffer zone from the Pits._

 _"Central District is Hell's metropolitan center. It's surrounded by another wall, which is currently the border between Lilith's forces and our own. Central is roughly the size of the greater New York City area. The majority of our less combative castes reside there, but don't take that to mean that every demon in Central is sweet. They just practice different kinds of cruelty."_

 _"Thanks for the warning." Sam recalled Ruby's brief description of the Central District and its figurative bombs. "Ruby said that there's a prison in Central. Isn't that a bit redundant?"_

 _The archdemon hummed with amused interest at the question. "I suppose it depends on how you look at it. Do you think Hell is a prison? Or maybe you think that we don't have criminals? Or maybe on the other end, that we don't have laws at all?"_

 _"I'm sure Hell has laws," Sam replied. "Otherwise a bureaucrat like you wouldn't have so much power."_

 _Crowley grinned impishly at his astute observation. "Yes. Instead it'd be someone like Lilith. I can't begin to tell you all the bolts that came loose under her brief guidance. It was like watching a child use a Gutenberg to make paper mâché."_

 _Sam raised an eyebrow at Crowley's metaphor. To compare Hell to a Gutenberg Bible seemed like an awfully bold and vain move. Though he had to admit that in terms of the historical significance, the inner workings of Hell probably had a more significant impact than he'd thought. He'd never really given the mechanics of Hell a moment of consideration until recently, which was probably a testament to its effectiveness. Messing with a delicate system was understandably frustrating, but there had been something in the archdemon's voice that went beyond bitterness._

 _"Your thing with Lilith, it's personal, isn't it?"_

 _Sam's question brought Crowley to a halt. "At the Crossroads, we're entirely business. But the High Council's chamber is not always ruled by calmer heads…. And when you kill my peers and attempt to kill me…. Yes. It's very personal."_

 _"How did you survive?" Sam asked, then quickly added, "I'm guessing combat isn't your strength."_

 _"Combat isn't, but covering my ass is…. Maybe someday you'll convince me to tell you how. But for now, that card will stay up my sleeve." Crowley began walking again and Sam hurried to keep up._

 _"The archdemons that were killed— What even happens when a demon dies?" Sam had been particularly curious about the subject since becoming involved with Ruby. Neither of them liked to dwell on the possible long-term aspects of their relationship, but occasionally it did keep him up at night._

 _"When a demon dies on Earth it's not our mess to clean up, but if they die down here usually we have to deal with the shell of their broken soul—the part that walks and talks," Crowley explained._

 _Sam was a little disappointed that Crowley seemed to be more focused on the practical and physical rather than the subjective experience. In a way it made sense. The guy was some sort of politician or administrator of an entire plane. He had more pressing concerns than something so metaphysical. Despite not getting the answer he'd hoped for, Sam almost didn't mind that much since he was being provided new trivia._

 _Crowley continued, "Sometimes demons will smoke around down here without taking on a form. Rumor is that if you die like that you'll just disappear. But for the ones with form, lesser corpses are destroyed and honored corpses are entombed. There are less than eighty tombs in Central, featuring a rogues' gallery of Hell's heroes. Most prominent are the Knights of Hell—"_

 _"Knights of Hell?" He remembered some mention of knights when Ruby was looking through the encyclopedia of Hell at Bobby's, but she hadn't elaborated on them at all._

 _"Very powerful demons, similar to archdemons, but they aren't chosen by their caste—they don't even have a caste. Each one was supposedly recruited personally by Lucifer. Every once in awhile a Knight or two will rise from their tomb in the service of Hell—"_

 _"Rise up?" Sam interrupted the aside with one of his own. "They're like zombie demons?"_

 _"Not really. The tombs are more like where they recover from the injuries. It doesn't matter how bad the damage, if you give a Knight enough time, they'll be back in fighting shape. Apparently the bastards are just really hard to kill."_

* * *

 _While Crowley was expounding on some comparatively boring explanation about the theories of the Citadel's masonry, Sam was briefly distracted by an ajar door that opened into a massive library containing hundreds of shelves full of small glass vials. He peeked inside and saw a laboratory setup with several sophisticated workbenches. The equipment was a strange combination of science in the form of precision microscopes and sorcery in the form of runes on the work surfaces._

 _"One of Morrison's little pet projects."_

 _Sam turned to find that Crowley had backtracked the twenty feet from where he'd last seen his guide, and was standing right behind him._

 _"Do try to keep up," Crowley instructed. "Or at least make sure we don't get separated."_

 _"Don't want me seeing certain things?" Sam guessed._

 _"I'm more concerned about you being seen, but that's not actually what I had in mind." Crowley gestured for Sam to continue following him through the halls. After a quick glance back into the lab, Sam allowed the tour to resume. "It's easy to get lost in here—it's actually designed that way. I suspect the intent was equal parts defensive and malicious."_

 _"I thought we were in the nice part of Hell." Sam realized the contradiction in his own statement. "Nevermind. I think I've figured it out."_

 _"Relatively speaking, this is the nice part, but you'll find that everything here has at least some barbed edges. It helps if you can have a sense of humor or professional appreciation for the small torments. Lightheartedness is the most effective way to thicken the hide."_

 _"Lighthearted in Hell." Sam wasn't sure he'd heard of something quite that absurd. "Seriously?"_

 _"It might seem daft now, but hopefully after a while it will make some sense."_

 _Turning a corner, Sam felt a strange sensation of disorientation. He could've sworn that they'd made five consecutive left-turns at relatively even intervals along their walk, but they hadn't retraced any steps. They hadn't taken any stairs and the floor didn't seem to be slanted either._

 _"Does Hell itself mess with your sanity or is it just the demons in it that do the damage?" Sam asked as he realized there weren't any signs or artwork on the walls to act as a landmark and all the doors were identical._

 _"That's a tad philosophical for my tastes, but I imagine that most things could drive a person mad if you let them get under your skin," Crowley replied. "You'd be surprised to see some of the dungeons that specialize in breaking souls with a gentle touch. They're not as popular as your burner or blades dungeons, but the results can be astounding."_

 _"How long does it take to break a soul with the gentle approach?"_

 _"Usually around 250 years, local time."_

 _Sam ran the math. If Hell really had an innately toxic effect that was essentially a gentle torture, without reprieve he'd be looking at breaking in only two years, Earth time, on the low end. As he looked back down the unsettlingly drab hallway where they had just come from and realized that he couldn't even remember now whether they'd turned left or right five times in a row. He sighed silently, then continued following Crowley._

 _They entered a foyer that had at least a dozen other hallways and staircases coming off of it. In the large room there were a handful of creatures moving about. There was almost no uniformity in their appearances. All but one was humanoid. Four had nearly human faces, while the others looked as though they had been spliced with characteristics of animals or natural materials. The overall impression that their appearances gave was disorganized._

 _"What are they?" Sam asked quietly._

 _Crowley didn't bother stopping to maintain some polite distance from the creatures while discussing them. He continued walking, though he turned his body slightly to look back at Sam who followed him a few steps behind in mild hesitation._

 _"Who," Crowley corrected. "They're demons. Not everyone is skilled enough to maintain a more human exterior, and not everyone wants to. If you want to see the ones that are all spikes and viscera, then I suggest the Pits. They love that sort of theatrics. In Central our demons might be a little easier for you to stomach, since they don't spend all their time mutilating souls."_

 _Seeing demons in person, Sam started to understand what Ruby had been talking about months ago. She had told him that demons could take many different forms, but were often the reflections of their twisted and broken souls. He hadn't expected the demons to be literally twisted, but as he approached them he noticed that many lacked any appearance of symmetry. It made some amount of sense that without a high level of concentration or maintenance a self-created form might shift or fade from neglect._

 _Most of their appearances vaguely indicated some sort of gender, but a few of them were completely androgynous. If their form was a reflection of the self, then he supposed there was a broad spectrum of sexes in Hell. Sam had some trans and genderqueer friends back at Stanford and secretly empathized to the extent that any of them had body dysmorphia. Even before he knew about his demon blood or Abyssal qualities, he had felt like something inside him didn't quite match the exterior. In exposing its demons' inner-workings and self-image, Hell seemed to have actually eliminated one of the major opportunities for an identity crisis that existed for humans. Sam smirked at the idea that maybe, on at least one point, Hell might be a more tolerant environment than Earth._

* * *

 _They entered a large hall that was clearly meant for official gatherings. Based on the locations of the heavy black metal chandeliers, the hall may have normally been filled with three columns of seats or long tables. Currently, the only object in the room, aside from the light fixtures, was the Seat._

 _At the far end of the hall was a fairly-utilitarian carved wooden chair that appeared to meld into the trunk of a massive tree unlike any tree Sam had ever seen. It must've been thirty feet tall with branches spanning forty or fifty feet, nearly filling the entire last quarter of the hall. The tree's joints were gnarled, but there were no indications of aging or damage such as holes or cracks. The wood was pure black and it lacked leaves to adorn its many spindly branches. It almost seemed dead in appearance, yet Sam felt like that would be a dismissive assumption for something that had such an air of importance._

 _A male demon stood at attention next to the tree, roughly five feet from the throne. He looked like a somewhat short and stout human, but his skin was almost like grey marble in places. His mouth seemed lipless, making it more of a thin crack than anything else. Solid black eyes could barely be seen below his pronounced brow. He wore scale mail and held a two-handed maul, giving him the overall look of a brute._

 _"There it is." Crowley's voice carried a little pride in spite of how frequently he must have seen the Seat. "The very center of Hell."_

 _Sam pointed to the demon. "Guard?"_

 _"Something like that. He's a Knight. The Seat doesn't actually need protection, but no one has succeeded in explaining that to Mir. Starting about three weeks ago local time, a handful of the Knights started waking up. This one—" Crowley pointed to the demon, who didn't react at all to being spoken about. In fact, as Sam approached Mir he got the impression that the demon hardly noticed them at all. "He just came straight here and hasn't moved since."_

 _"He's a—" Sam realized that he was about to rudely talk about Mir as if he wasn't there. Turning his body slightly to face the stout demon, Sam started again. "You're a Knight of Hell?"_

 _Mir stood a little taller, trying to instill even more dignity into his already professional stance. Sam couldn't tell exactly where his eyes were looking while they were solid black, but in spite of his head not moving, Sam got the distinct feeling that Mir was watching him._

 _"Yeah, this one'll talk your ear off if you let him. I'm not even sure if he speaks Abyssal…. Or he could just be a complete cabbage." Crowley said something that Sam assumed was in Abyssal, but Mir didn't react in the slightest. With a quick shrug the archdemon turned and began walking towards a doorway on the right side of the hall. "If you'll follow me. The High Council's chamber is through here."_

 _As Sam turned to go with Crowley, a flicker of color in the sea of grey and black caught his eye. He stopped and turned his head back. For a second he could have sworn that the tree was white with thousands of small red flowers covering its branches, but when he looked back at it the tree was plain ebony. Sam frowned, started to turn again, then saw the flash of white and red from the corner of his eye. Looking back, it was plain once again._

 _"Cute trick," Sam muttered to himself._

 _"Did you say something?" Crowley asked from across the hall._

 _"Just that's a cute trick with the tree," Sam replied as he walked over to the archdemon to continue with his tour, but Crowley looked puzzled._

 _"Pardon?"_

 _"The light and color flicker with the tree." When Crowley just continued to stare at him in confusion Sam elaborated, "If you look at it straight on it's black and plain, but out of the corner of your eye it's white with red flowers."_

 _The silence that followed made Sam incredibly uncomfortable. Crowley's expression made him wonder if he had just accidentally confessed to being insane— Maybe Hell was getting to him faster than anyone had expected? He wanted the silence to stop, but was worried that he might say something to make it worse. Yet the thing that did break the silence was arguably worse than anything Sam could have said._

 _Mir's armor rattled and shifted as he turned to face Sam. The knight studied him for a painfully long moment, then gestured for him to come closer. Sam hesitated. Mir clearly had something in mind and it had been triggered by Sam doing something so unprecedented that even Crowley was at a loss._

 _"You heard the man," Crowley coaxed in a tone that assured Sam that he was equally uncertain of Mir's intent._

 _Sam cautiously walked toward the mute knight. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it unnerved him. When he got within about ten feet of the throne he felt strangely distracted. He had been focused on Mir, but his attention was gradually drawn to the tree. In an almost dreamlike daze, he fleetingly noticed he was barely aware that Mir and Crowley were still in the room…. There was something more important for him to investigate. As Sam continued forward, in the back of his mind he could hear Crowley telling him to be careful, but he didn't feel in danger._

 _Without even thinking about it, Sam placed his hand onto the throne's armrest. His eyes rolled back for a second as he felt a bit heady with power. Part of him wanted more, but the surprise of what he'd just done shook him back to reality. He recoiled in alarm and checked his hand for injury, but it seemed fine. Looking back to the throne, he noticed that the place where his hand had touched the armrest had turned white, but quickly faded back to black once he had released it._

 _Crowley was frozen in wide-eyed shock. Sam stood awkwardly clutching his hand and shaking with nerves. He felt exposed—like a dream involving being naked in class. But this was so much worse in ways that he knew he couldn't even imagine. His stomach sank a little further when he finally looked over at Mir. The knight had returned to standing at attention, but his insignificant mouth had curled into an unsettling smile._

 _"Well, that is very interesting," whispered Crowley._

* * *

 _"Shall we talk initial terms?"_

 _Crowley relaxed in his office chair, giving the intentional appearance of confidence. He had been a conscientious host so far, but they were about to get down to business and both knew that there was an imbalance in their bargaining power. Crowley had the knowledge and vision, while Sam had some not-yet-understood power. They could each potentially make the other's lives easier or more difficult, but Sam had less of an idea of how to go about it. After netting out their strengths and weaknesses, Sam was pretty sure that he was still in the worse bargaining position, regardless of what had happened with the tree._

 _"Initial?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "We aren't going to figure this out right now?"_

 _"In order to know what our long-term strategy should be we'll need to do a significant amount of research and private negotiations with the other powers that be down here. I hadn't expected it to be a very involved process, but I also hadn't expected for you to have your little run-in with the Seat," Crowley explained, causing Sam to cringe inwardly at the realization that it was indeed going to have significant repercussions. "Thanks to that new development, we'll have to start from the ground up and I think we both will want some assurances in the meantime."_

 _He didn't like the sound of that. "Assurances?"_

 _"You want to secure protections for your people regardless of how long we spend working out the details and I want some guarantee that you're actually committed to the overall venture." Crowley softly tapped his fingertips on the top of his desk. "So tell me, knowing that we can add to the agreement as we go, what do you want to start with?"_

 _Now that he wasn't under as much time pressure and had seen some of Crowley's influence, Sam took a moment to reassess his goals. Wishing away Lilith or some comparably easy fix was almost certainly impossible if only because Crowley would've had them take care of it in five minutes had that been an option. His host was smart enough to have already tried any quick resolutions, so Sam pushed the big picture from his mind. He had gone there to protect his family and that would stay his primary objective._

 _"I want my family—that includes close friends who aren't blood relatives—safe from the angels and Lilith. I want them provided for—"_

 _"You know the Citadel is probably the safest place when it comes to angels at the moment," Crowley suggested as he began pouring himself a glass of scotch._

 _"I don't want them held prisoner or restricted to Hell. Dean would probably..." The thought made Sam feel a little sick. "I don't even want to think about how he'd react to being back down here."_

 _"You could split the lot. Dean and Bobby would be happier on Earth. Meanwhile, Ruby and the pup would be safest—"_

 _Sam shook his head. "I don't want my daughter growing up in Hell."_

 _Crowley looked up from his glass of scotch and raised an eyebrow as a hopeful smile spread across his face. "Is a cigar in order?"_

 _"Let's get back to the terms," Sam evaded the subject._

 _The less that was said about Kaylee the better. Crowley didn't continue to press the topic, though he did pour Sam a glass and placed it in front of his guest. Sam eyed the beverage, but didn't refuse it._

 _"Anything else you'd like to add to your list of demands?"_

 _After thinking for a minute or so, Sam replied, "The witches in Ruby's coven and anyone on my list that were killed by the angels—I want them resurrected and provided the same benefits we've been discussing for my other close friends and family."_

 _"Can't do that."_

 _"I know that the Crossroads can resurrect people." He still had the scar in the middle of his back that was evidence of one such temporary-fatality._

 _"It's not the fact that they're dead; it's the fact that the angels did it," Crowley explained. "We're in the early stages of developing our anti-Heaven capabilities. We can't undo their damage yet. That kind of magic could take a long time to make functional. If we eventually figure out a way to bring them back, then you can exercise the option at that time. Fair enough?"_

 _Sam sighed. He'd hoped that he could just make the deal and fix everything, but it wasn't that easy. Gabin, Pascoe, Seline, the children—almost all of the coven, and an unknown number of friends would remain dead indefinitely. The prospect of eventually bringing them back was more than nothing, but honestly he questioned whether that would be the right thing to do if enough time passed. If their souls weren't in the Pit, pulling them back from Heaven or wherever might cause more harm than good. He'd have to talk with Castiel about the implications, but at least retaining the option was something._

 _"Fine," Sam agreed. "What do you want from me?"_

 _"Your loyalty and obedience."_

 _He glared at Crowley, but didn't say anything. He'd been waiting for that moment since he'd arrived. Crowley had finally decided to take him for all he was worth and he was basically at the archdemon's mercy, which was a terrifying thought._

 _Signing away his loyalty and/or obedience could mean any of a number of things, especially when magic was involved. It could merely be causing a breach of the contract if he failed to adhere to his duty—and what was the punishment for breaching a contract in Hell? Alternatively, it could mean having his mind altered to naturally feel loyal and obedient to another. Maybe he would still retain his normal mental capacity, but he would be physically incapable of defying. Sam hoped that they could settle on something that preserved his autonomy._

 _"When you say obedience…."_

 _"I'm not talking about saying 'jump' and you jump. Think more like an extension of loyalty. You'll make a reasonable and good faith effort to execute my instructions. Also, you'll have a duty to inform me of anything that you think is vital to our purposes."_

 _"I'm not going to betray my family." Sam's eyes narrowed and some of the polite warmth in his voice was replaced with helpless frustration._

 _"That's fair." Crowley shrugged. "If you find yourself with a legitimate conflict of interest—something that would seriously harm your family—then you have to let me know and I'll find a way to work around it."_

 _"You'll go behind my back."_

 _"Hopefully we won't have to find out. Close enough to fair?"_

 _Sam thought about the conditions for a long while, then added two last points. "You won't do anything unnatural to my mind, without my informed consent. And you will answer my questions. If I'm going to be working for you I'm going to need a lot of information."_

 _Crowley smiled in appreciation of his late additions. "I like your instincts," the archdemon commented. "It'd be a shame to mess them up by fiddling with your mind. Let me get some people looking for your family's sanctuary and we can hammer out the details."_

 _There was a knock on the office door, then after Crowley's invitation a demon brought in a scroll of parchment. Crowley took the scroll and read it for several minutes. One corner of his mouth turned downward. He asked the underling a question in Abyssal. The demon reported on something at length and Crowley nodded thoughtfully before dismissing the subordinate._

 _"The results from our rescue mission." Crowley held up the scroll. "Which would you like to hear first: the good news, the bad news, or the unexpected news?"_

* * *

"What marked the start of the apocalypse?" Dean asked.

He figured that if the three of them were measuring the passage of time down to the months, something had to have happened and their reactions seemed to corroborate his theory. Kaylee and Tom's vaguely playful and relaxed demeanor dimmed slightly at a memory. Kaylee was the better of the two at concealing whatever unpleasant feelings had been brought to the surface. Her lips only briefly thinned before she regained a false air of composure. Tom looked down at the floor for a few seconds until Kaylee subtly patted him on the back in reassurance. Dylaniel watched them with what Dean suspected was concern, though the blonde kid was difficult to read.

"Officially, Lucifer getting out of his cage," Kaylee said as she casually paced the room. "But it started brewing long before he made the scene."

"You're from 2009…." Tom thought for a moment as he changed his frame of reference. "In your time things were just starting to go wrong, but things only really began escalating on Earth in 2012. Late 2013 was when the writing was on the wall, and the war more or less started in 2014."

"W-war?" Dean fumbled the word.

"Yeah. The way the apocalypse has shaken out so far is basically as a three-way war," Kaylee explained. "We're fighting for the sovereignty and survival of Earth against the forces of Heaven on one side and the followers of Lucifer—"

"And Lilith before him," Tom interjected.

"—on the other," Kaylee continued. "And when we say war, this is a full-blown war, with a lot of carnage all over the world. The cat's out of the bag on the whole demons, angels, and non-humans thing."

"Heaven and Lucifer's followers are looking to finish the apocalypse by engaging in a battle that will essentially destroy Earth, so our side has been fighting to try to prevent that final battle," Dylaniel added, then his tone turned almost remorseful. "So far, we've been successful at preventing it, but they're doing a good job of not leaving much left for us to fight for."

"There's been considerable death on all sides and a lot of humans taken out in the crossfire. There are some major populations of neutral humans, which we try to avoid—lest we bring the shitstorm upon them. Some humans side with us, others serve Heaven—very few serve Lucifer. It's pretty fucking complicated." Kaylee waved her hands to indicate a big mess.

"So you guys are in a three-way death-match between Earth, Heaven, and Hell?" Dean asked while trying to wrap his head around the alarming news. No wonder New Orleans had looked like the site of a massacre or war; it was exactly that. He'd always wondered what it would be like to live in a world where humans knew about all the things that went bump in the night. Now that he was there, he wanted out. Since hiding in the shadows wasn't necessary, it seemed Heaven and Hell had come out to play hard.

"Not exactly," Kaylee said as she stopped pacing and rested her hands on her hips. "Hell is officially backing the preservation of Earth and contributing demons to our side of the fight."

"What?! Why would they do that?"

Time travel was one thing. Meeting his adult niece… he could somehow roll with that. Even the fucking apocalypse was remotely imaginable. But the idea that Hell would be doing something to help Earth…. Well, that one archdemon in the suit had been anti-Lilith, but he was just some politician out to save his own ass. Dean tilted his head trying to imagine how they could've gotten from point A to B.

"Are you looking for the stated policy argument or the more practical reason?" Kaylee asked.

It was hard for him to imagine Hell having any sort of official policy other than being evil. "Practical, I guess."

"Because it was decreed by the King of Hell," she answered with a strange hint of amusement in her voice.

"I thought Hell was ruled by a council?" The archdemon had mentioned it when he popped into Bobby's house. That had been part of the foundation of the entire conversation.

"It was until it hastily switched over to a divine monarchy."

"So who is the King of Hell?" Dean's question elicited awkward smiles from Kaylee and Tom, while Dylaniel raised an eyebrow as he turned to look from Dean to Kaylee.

"Right now Hell has a queen, and you're looking at her," Kaylee said with a little shrug that didn't quite hide her pride. "But my dad's the one that made Hell back Earth in the apocalypse."


	39. The Man Who Would Be King

"Sammy…." Dean's shoulders slumped. Kaylee had referred to Sam as the King of Hell. That archdemon had been talking about Sam impersonating some demon or archdemon named Lucian, but that idea had been shot down… hadn't it? Anyway, the idea of King of Hell—Sam would never agree to serve Hell. Dean didn't feel confident in that thought, which hurt on too many levels. "What happened? How?"

"Everything kind of fell apart after the angels showed up," Kaylee explained. "Things were pretty desperate—I'm sure you know if you guys went with a plan as crazy as time travel."

"He doesn't know about Tom." Dylaniel pointed out the landmark of timeline divergence as he looked to Tom. "He doesn't know about the coven or anything beyond that."

Tom's expression was grave and he absentmindedly clutched the silver locket around his neck. Dean started connecting a few dots. Tom had been preparing that smoke spell without any books or recipes in front of him and his runic tattoos screamed magical. He wasn't armed, but didn't seem to command the same authority that apparently allowed Kaylee to walk around without weapons. Now with the mention of a coven, it was clear that Tom was a witch and not just the person who drew the short straw on casting the spell. But Tom didn't look that much older than Dean and they were surprised that he didn't know him.

"Coven? What cov—Ruby's coven?" Dean's head was starting to ache. "What does that have to do with Sam?"

"A few days after Dad and Cas killed the first angels, Heaven decided to start killing anyone they thought might be helping them or Mom. The coven was hit along with around forty other people." Kaylee quickly glanced at Tom to see his reaction, but he remained quietly composed. "Dad, Mom, and Cas managed to save Tom and seven other coven members from the attack on their camp, but it was…."

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure of how to describe the massacre that had occurred. Tom didn't volunteer any details.

Rather than linger in uncomfortable silence, Dylaniel continued with the story. "Sam made a deal with Crowley's alliance of archdemons. In exchange for relative safety on Earth for them, he agreed to help Crowley's side attempt to recapture and control Hell."

Kaylee added, "But it didn't take long before it was obvious that Dad was more than just someone to impersonate an archdemon."

"What do you mean?" Dean wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he equally couldn't afford to shut the new information out.

"He flourished in Hell." She smiled with a little pride. "I mean, he was basically made for it."

"He ended up flourishing," Tom corrected. "You're making it sound like a cakewalk. You don't remember the first few months…. It took him a long time to adjust."

* * *

 _Once the boilerplate and basics of their contract were in place, Crowley insisted on running a few experiments to see how best to market Sam to the other archdemons within the Central District. After checking on the status of the personnel movement from the rescue mission, Crowley led Sam back to the throne room to explore the issue that was in the forefront of both of their minds._

 _As much as Sam could appreciate the need to find out what was going on with the tree and him, he wasn't thrilled about the situation. He didn't like the idea of performing for Crowley, but that was more or less the backbone of their agreement. For a fleeting moment, he considered trying to call off the deal, but he wasn't sure if it was even possible at that point. He would just have to swallow his pride and play along. So far Crowley wasn't being unreasonable, just being annoyingly thorough._

 _Sam eyed Mir for a few seconds before cautiously walking toward the throne. He could feel the subtle pull, but now that he was aware of it he found that he could resist the throne's siren song with just minor effort. That time around, when he placed his hand on the black wood, he was better prepared for the slight rush it provided._

 _He turned to face the grand hall. It was a surreal moment to look out on the massive room at the center of Hell. No one else sat on the throne and the way everyone had given it at least a little respectful distance, Sam suspected that he was seeing a truly rare perspective. He was unique in what he was about to attempt and it scared the shit out of him. With an insufficiently-calming breath, he cautiously sat down._

 _The carved wooden seat had no business being so comfortable. It gave him a strangely familiar feeling, like he might have for the sensation of the Impala's seats. But he'd never been on this throne—or any throne—before. Still, it called back to something like a memory that made him feel composed and content._

 _Looking up and turning his torso slightly, Sam could see that the tree was slowly lightening. Within minutes its bark had turned the same white that he'd seen earlier from the corner of his eye. After a few more minutes, countless tiny red buds began to form on the smallest branches. He sat there in perfect silence watching them bloom with rapt attention for an unknown length of time._

 _When he finally managed to look away from the strangely beautiful sight he noticed the change in the rest of the room. Almost three dozen demons were standing in the great hall, staring in awe. While he had been distracted, various demons had been passing by the open doors to the hall and were drawn in by their curiosity. They hardly seemed to notice him. Their focus was entirely on the canopy of scarlet blossoms, which he realized was the most color he'd seen since arriving in Hell._

 _Crowley's expression was both pleased and completely stunned. After a few minutes of initial shock, he turned to look at Sam with a slightly open-mouthed smile. Looking back at the reactions of the other demons, he noticed a female demon among the crowd and waved her over to him. He whispered something into where her ear should've been. She nodded to him before he walked up to stand beside Sam._

 _"Tell them all to leave. We need to talk," Crowley whispered._

 _Sam was a little confused as to why Crowley didn't just ask the demons to leave himself, but he went along with it. "Could you all go back to whatever it was that you were doing?" Sam said uncertainly._

 _His words shook the demons out of their not-quite-trances. They quickly scurried from the hall, taking last peeks on their way out. Only Crowley, Mir, and the female demon remained. Crowley flicked a wrist, causing the doors to the throne room to close. With their privacy renewed, the archdemon got down to business._

 _"We need to work on your assertiveness," Crowley commented._

 _Sam threw him what Dean would've called a 'bitchface.' "Yeah well, I wasn't prepared to work a crowd—and I get the feeling you weren't prepared for them either."_

 _Crowley had mentioned wanting to keep Sam's presence as secret as possible until they were ready to act. Only about twenty demons had seen him prior to the throne incident when he'd merely been walking around._

 _"The crowd was unexpected…." The gears turning in Crowley's mind were ominously visible on his face. "We may have lost the element of surprise, but a bit of gossip might actually do us some good. I'll wager in about fifteen minutes all of Central will be talking about this." He chuckled. "Some of us used to call you the Boy King of Hell just to piss Lilith off. That might actually be the best game plan we have. I wish I could see the look on her face when she hears about this."_

 _"King? You can't be serious?" He slouched in his seat a little and covered his face with one hand. "I signed on to pretend to be some archdemon, glorified bureaucratic puppet with a name that your demons recognize. I didn't sign on for this." Sam gestured at the tree and throne, which he realized he was still sitting in. He hastily got up, suddenly very self-conscious of his behavior._

 _"Technically, you just signed up to be loyal and obedient to me," corrected the King of the Crossroads. "We didn't print your business cards yet. You getting stage fright doesn't change that. As long as it makes more strategic sense for you to take a different role, that's what we're going with."_

 _"There's a difference between archdemon and King of Hell. You're putting my life at risk!" Sam threw his hands up as he yelled at Crowley._

 _The female demon shifted slightly, but decided to not to jump into the tense conversation. Meanwhile, Mir's head turned almost imperceptibly to give him a better view of Crowley._

 _"Please—your life was already at risk." Crowley scoffed. "You really think that some hunter or angel or Lilith is going to want to kill you less if we call you an archdemon instead of a king? I'd wager Lilith's demons will be less inclined to kill you as king."_

 _"Why would you even want me to be king?" He couldn't understand why they were even humoring such a crazy idea. "Don't you and the other arches want to be the ones in charge?"_

 _"They'll still want a say, there's no doubt about that, but consolidated leadership could be just what we need right now." Crowley nodded to himself, becoming even more pleased with his latest plan. "The whole system has been thrown into chaos and is divided. Even the friendly castes don't mingle with each other well. It's hard to rally a coalition government when you already have groups breaking away. But you don't belong to a caste; no one and everyone could look to you, if we do this right."_

 _Sam hated to admit that abstractly it was beginning to make even a little bit of sense. "I don't like it."_

 _"Welcome to Hell."_

* * *

 _Crowley motioned for the female demon to come forward. Unlike most of the other demons Sam had seen, she didn't appear lopsided or vaguely disfigured. If anything her features were somewhat streamlined and understated. Instead of skin, her exterior looked like it was made of dark, smoky glass. A single smooth cowl of the same material grew from her upper back and shoulders, alluding to what might have been hair, but he wasn't quite sure. Despite the inhuman effect, Sam noticed her symmetry and appreciated that she probably chose to look that way._

 _"This is Shola, one of my top aides." Crowley's tone was nearly proud. "She mostly handles unusual deals."_

 _Sam recognized her... presence? "You were the one at Bobby's house."_

 _"Yes." She smiled politely. "I made the deal with your brother to assist him in locating you."_

 _"She's very resourceful and, almost more importantly at the moment, she's generally considered nice."_

 _She gave Crowley a sidelong glance at the 'nice' comment, but didn't complain. Sam wondered how much of an insult that sort of comment was in Hell and if Crowley's willingness to throw the phrase around was actually a sign of confidence._

 _Crowley continued, "That's why she'll be assisting you until you get settled."_

 _"Settled?" Sam didn't like the finality of his word choice. "I'm not staying here."_

 _"Acquainted," Crowley suggested as a more palatable term, then waved his hand in an allusion to a bow. "Now if you'll excuse me for a bit, I need to check in with three of the other arches before the gossip runs too far afield."_

 _"And what am I supposed to do?" Sam asked as Crowley began walking towards one of the back doors out of the great hall._

 _"Exercise your patience. You'll need it in fighting shape," the archdemon replied before exiting the room._

 _As soon as the door had closed Sam let out a small sigh. He wouldn't say that trusted or liked Crowley, but at least they had some minimal background. Now he had been left alone in a room in Hell with two strange demons. It wasn't that he was scared of them—Shola was the 'nice demon,' after all, and Mir appeared to largely resemble furniture unless interacted with directly. He mostly just felt uncomfortable about nearly every other aspect of his circumstances. Well, at least the hall was otherwise empty, giving him some privacy._

 _After eyeing Shola for a little while he strolled around the massive tree, uncertain of what else to do. He dragged his palm along the bark, creating a fading white ring. When he completed a circuit around the tree, he sat back down on the throne to watch the transformation again. Within a minute of him getting out of the seat, it had reverted to its black coloration and the flowers had withered to ash that showered down into the dull stone floor._

 _"So, you're my handler when Crowley's busy?" Sam asked Shola._

 _"Essentially yes," she admitted. "But I believe that you will find me to be valuable beyond merely keeping you out of trouble."_

 _"You two are expecting me to cause trouble?" Sam felt a little insulted, but in all honesty the thought had crossed his mind before remembering that he was under contract not to flip all the switches regardless of the consequences._

 _"Mostly by accident, but since you aren't from around these parts, accidents are bound to happen."_

 _He nodded at her point. There were so many that things he didn't understand; he barely knew where to begin filling in the gaps. Over time he'd almost certainly pick up a lot of the rules, customs, and subtleties, but for the time being it made a lot of sense to have a babysitter. At least Crowley had been considerate enough to find him one that was both apparently competent and not entirely alienating._

 _She stood about fifteen feet in front of him, alternating her attention between the tree and nothing in particular. An awkward silence stretched between them._

 _"You're not really sure what to do either," Sam guessed. "I take it that you normally don't have to babysit people as part of your job."_

 _"'Babysit' is a bit of a strong word." She didn't outright deny the characterization though. "I've had to handhold a bit for some of my contracts. I tend to have longer relationships with my clients than most Crossroads demon because of the unusual nature of my deals."_

 _"What about with Dean?"_

 _"He was fairly hands-off. He was uncomfortable with the whole demon aspect. Bobby seemed very pleasant though." She took a step forward. "I heard that they were involved in a fight with… the…."_

 _"They're both fine." Sam thought he saw a small smile grow on her face as she nodded and looked at the floor almost bashfully. Her expression changed from comfort to something more unsettled._

 _"If I may, sir—"_

 _"Fuck—please don't call me 'sir.'" He cringed and recoiled into the throne. "Just call me Sam."_

 _She reflexively looked around the hall for anyone else that might be observing them, then took a few more steps closer to him and explained, "It's customary for demons to adopt a different name than they used while alive. I believe that you'll be asked to adopt Lucian in order to utilize the name recognition."_

 _"I didn't die." It was disturbing that he felt the need to clarify his ongoing status as living. "I'm still me."_

 _"I know. I just thought I'd warn you, since the Council might force the issue."_

 _"'Force the issue' or force me?"_

 _"Both."_

 _He'd figured that would come up as a demand and he wasn't even sure how he felt about it. There was something to be said for mitigating the association between the name 'Sam Winchester' and Hell, though he wasn't exactly sure who he was trying to protect or impress. His family would know soon enough the mess he'd gotten himself into and beyond that who else was there?_

 _The idea of word getting to Clare's gang of hunters that he'd become King of Hell was interesting. It'd probably give them a sense of validation that made him sick, but on the flip side maybe he could take comfort in the idea of them feeling like failures._

 _A bigger concern would be how that might impact Dean or, to a lesser extent, Bobby. Eventually the hunting community would find out and while he didn't particularly care, Dean and Bobby hadn't broken their ties. In fact, assuming that any of the network was still alive, the two of them were prominent figures in that organization. Maybe some of the other hunters could be made to understand... or maybe they could lie about him—say that he was tricked or that they had disowned him._

 _He sighed at the unexpected facet of his new existence. It was true that he'd closed the door on many of his relationships when he had started running around with Ruby, but accepting Crowley's deal was bricking over the door once closed. Regardless of what he let people call him, he would be condemned to a certain amount of isolation._

 _"Can you call me Sam?" he asked again with more vulnerability in his voice. "Even if it's just in private. I don't think I could take this entire place…. I don't think I could take all of this insanity without someone down here treating me normally."_

 _"I'll do what I can to make this easier." Her smile had returned, but it had the unmistakable hue of pity. "If I may ask you a question—"_

 _"If it's just us…." Sam glanced over at the ever-silent and stationery Mir, then shrugged. "If it's just us, then go ahead and ask. Don't be so damn formal with me. It makes me feel like you're drinking the kool aid."_

 _She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated a moment, then asked, "Have you really seen angels?"_

 _"Yeah. One of them is with my family. He's been helping to protect them from Heaven." His mind had immediately jumped to Castiel, but it was quickly replaced with thoughts of the other angels. Uriel and Tambriel, the massacre at the coven... the looming threat of whatever Heaven might do to them... "I've killed several of them. Why do you want to know? I thought Hell has anti-angel protection?"_

 _"Oh, I'm not worried about an attack. I was just..." Sam could somehow sense her shifting anxiously below her calm shell. "I had hoped— I believed it, but to know—they're actually real. I have so many questions. Do they hear prayers?"_

 _"I don't know." He was confused by the seemingly random question and his inability to answer it. "I haven't asked Castiel about that kind of stuff. If you're really curious, I can talk to him about it next time I see him."_

 _"Please. Could you… could you ask him: if they do hear prayers, do they hear all of them?"_

 _Sam stared at her in mild disbelief. Her air of anxiety was replaced with a combination of passion and desperation. She had a vested interest in the answer._

 _"You pray?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _He stared at her for several seconds before he could manage to say, "But we're in Hell—you're a demon. Aren't angels and Heaven your natural enemy?"_

 _"I certainly hope not." She exhaled something resembling a weak laugh, but he could tell that the thought upset her. Her shoulders sunk subtly and her shell lost some of its vividness._

 _"If you think that angels are good or something to admire, I hate to break it to you, but you're wrong." Sam's tone was bitter. "They killed children…."_

 _Shola's brow furrowed in disappointed understanding. Closing her eyes, she processed the new information. Sam felt bad about breaking this to her, but he started feeling worse as he began to sense just how much pain the realization was causing her._

 _"The things that came here destroyed seven hundred demons and a thousand souls in a matter of minutes. They were horrific. That kind of…." She shook her head. "I don't want to be their enemy for so many reasons. They scare me. They scare all of us, but it's more than that. I think what they're doing is wrong, but they're angels and I'm the demon. What if I really am the villain after all? I've been trying to do my best to stay true in spite of the role that God has given me…. Maybe I've been misguided."_

 _In many ways he could sympathize with her crisis, and in other ways he didn't understand how she could have more faith in the angels than herself. He had felt betrayal and loss too, but she had turned the hurt inward. Sam had seen the differences between himself and the angels as a reflection on the angels because he was confident in his own position, but faced with that same disparity Shola felt it was a reflection on herself. It made sense that she would doubt herself before all of Heaven. She was a woman of faith trying to be the 'nice' demon in Hell._

 _"You're supposed to help me, right?" Sam asked, causing her to look up, drawn out from her anguish. "How long have you been a demon?"_

 _"Earth time, a little over 500 years." She spoke softly, unsure of what he was getting at._

 _"Okay. You've been fighting for centuries or millennia to stay good in a place like this and I need your help to stay good too." She opened her mouth, but Sam cut her off. "I don't care if some creatures we don't see eye-to-eye with wear haloes. They can't help me down here. You're my best chance at trying to stop this place from changing me into something I don't want to be. I need you to help keep me good. Don't let their failure damn us both."_

 _She thought for a long while as a soft smile formed at the little bit of confidence his faith had renewed in her._

 _"Thank you. Sometimes it can be hard to remember why we made the choices we did—that my truth is between me and God. I do it for us alone... not even for the angels." She chuckled. "Though I think it helps that my subordinates would eat me alive if I stopped being 'the nice one.'"_

 _Sam raised an eyebrow. "I would've thought being nice was a sign of weakness in Hell."_

 _"Maybe in some parts, but not necessarily in the Crossroads. Being a sadist makes the job easier, but I've never found it to be a requisite. If I had to be brutal to get what I want, then I wouldn't be very good at my job."_

 _"Part of the reason you're nice is to show everyone else that you're better than them?"_

 _"Only a little," she replied. "Mostly I like to be nice to show myself I'm better than I feared."_

* * *

 _They descended the stone staircase into what Sam immediately recognized as a cell block. The dim light and colder air gave an unnaturally constricting sensation that reminded him of being clutched by a ghost. One of the cells emitted the sounds of raspy breathing, which begged the question of whether demons really needed to breathe or if that prisoner was so badly injured that they reflectively manifested the symptom. Unlike the featureless doors on the levels above, these doors included barred windows. Sam touched the metal bars._

 _"Iron," Crowley explained as he followed an assistant down the hallway._

 _Introductions to the other Archdemons had been postponed until all of the allied archdemons could be assembled at once. Of the eight archdemons in the alliance, aside from Crowley, only four were in mostly-working order. Palim's successor was still being selected, Denerus was recovering from injuries, and Weller's caste had agreed to wait another week before officially changing his status from 'missing' to 'deceased.' Sam was given permission to return topside while the revised Council finished regrouping, but only after briefly consulting on an unusual discovery._

 _"How long have you known Tyson?" Crowley asked._

 _"Brady," Sam corrected. "We were friends in college, but I dropped out of communication with him after I started hunting again."_

 _"Then why'd he make your list of people to save?"_

 _"I've kept tabs on him. A few times I thought I'd eventually get back in touch with him, but things never really came together."_

 _"Until now." Crowley smirked. "Lucky you."_

 _Sam felt sick at the thought that that would be the first time in years that he'd seen one of the best friends he'd ever had—a friend now possessed by a demon working with Lilith. The whole thing was disgusting and heartbreaking. "Has he said anything?"_

 _"Nothing useful."_

 _They reached the last cell on the block and the assistant unlocked the door for them. Crowley entered, followed by Sam. The cell's walls, ceiling, and the inside face of the door were covered in what looked like razor blades that Sam was certain were iron. Two demons stood as guards just inside the doorway._

 _Seated in the lone chair at the center of the room was a demon that reclined with a proud sort of indifference to having been taken prisoner. His shell bore gashes and bruises that hinted at some earlier interrogation. In spite of his beating, he beamed with a smugness that Sam immediately recognized from some of Brady's less-flattering moments._

 _"Sam?" The prisoner grinned broadly. "Of all the people in all the places in all the worlds."_

 _The demon's laughter made Sam's stomach knot in a mixture of anger and nostalgia. "What did you do to Brady?" His voice was quiet, which unintentionally gave the appearance of vulnerability._

 _The prisoner sat up, incrementally emboldened. "Please. I am Brady—or at least I have been since sophomore year. The whining little trust fund pissant, he barely even knew your name before I got to him."_

 _"Why? Why did…." Sam couldn't understand why a demon would get close to him and not kill him. They'd known each other for almost three years. Brady had even been there for him during hard times—done him favors—he'd— "You introduced me to Jess!"_

 _"She was so pure and innocent... and trusting." Below his shell, Brady flared with a plethora of unsavory emotions. "She thought I was her friend... when she let me in the night I killed her."_

 _Sam stepped forward with a fist ready to swing, but Crowley moved to intercept him. He stopped himself, but looked to the archdemon for insight as to why he shouldn't attack. Crowley had his back turned to Brady and mouthed the words 'not yet' to Sam. Sam looked back to Brady, still a bit unsure about why he was being asked to hold off on the beating. His rage was simmering below the surface, but shock and confusion were getting the upper hand. He visibly suppressed his anger long enough to ask, "Why?"_

 _"Azazel needed you back in the game. You were his favorite after all…." Brady's demeanor turned sharp and resentful. To his surprise, Sam could sense the cloud below Brady's shell glowering. "But Azazel's dead and you—you're not the leader we were promised. The other demons, they might call you Lucian and think you're what we need, but I know you. I know your secret: you're weak. Everything I say is cutting you to pieces because you're just some pathetic kid who always knew you were never good enough—not on Earth and definitely not here. You'll never have the strength Lilith has because you lack conviction—"_

 _Sam grabbed Brady with his powers and squeezed. Brady writhed and screamed, but Sam silenced him. The urge to just throttle him was overwhelming—for Jess, for the betrayal, for serving him up to Azazel._

 _Crowley placed a hand on Sam's arm, trying to calm him down. "Careful with the goods. We need him for information."_

 _"He's not as high up the chain of command as you think." Sam may have been talking rationally, but anger was curling his lips into a snarl._

 _"How do you figure that?" Crowley asked with almost academic interest. "He was one of Azazel's agents at least eight years ago. That's a pretty small crowd."_

 _"He doesn't know what I've done—what I can do. He's heard some rumors, but if he knew what I've been up to he'd see how much things have changed," Sam replied, then added bitterly, "We were best friends, after all."_

 _Crowley and the other demons eyed Brady, who shrunk slightly at being called out. Sam squeezed again, harder than before, and the surface of Brady's body began to flicker translucent as hairline fractures began to form. Below the damaged exterior, the smoky, corrupted soul swirled frantically._

 _"You're going to kill him," Crowley said in a raised voice that didn't quite summon enough effort to be considered a shout. He wasn't particularly concerned for Brady, but the display of Sam's powers was mildly alarming._

 _"He wishes," Sam growled._

 _"Even if he doesn't know the latest on you, he might still have valuable information," Crowley warned in a tone that was so calm and mild that it was jarring within the vicious setting._

 _When Sam relaxed his grip on Brady he crumpled to the floor. Tiny wisps of smoke bled through the cracks in his shell before fading into nothingness. Sam could feel the two guards' shock at the injuries he'd inflicted in hardly any time at all._

 _Not wasting his prisoner's moment of insecurity, Crowley stepped forward, then used the toe of his right dress shoe to tilt Brady's face up towards his own. "I suggest you prove me right, otherwise I'm going to just let Sam here work off some aggression."_

 _"I've been stuck in Palo Alto—I haven't—" Brady began, but Crowley silenced him by placing the sole of his shoe over Brady's mouth._

 _The archdemon's brow furrowed at a thought. "I don't understand. You two haven't seen each other in over five years. So why are you still stuck riding the same meatsuit, living the tame life around the same neighborhood?"_

 _"Lilith told me to stay in it and keep playing along—that we might need the body to draw Sam out."_

 _"Draw me out?" Sam wanted to laugh at the thought. "I spent eight months chasing her all over the country. If she had trouble drawing me out, then—"_

 _"She wasn't ready."_

 _Crowley raised an eyebrow as he glanced back at Sam. "Ready for what?"_

 _"For the final seal," Brady answered. "She wasn't ready to break it."_

 _A chill went down Sam's spine. "What?"_

 _They'd been wondering what the last seal might be. Castiel had suggested that Lilith's minions weren't tasked with it because it might not happen on Earth, but they had accidentally included an assumption into that reasoning. They thought their sixty-four seals intel was encompassing the entire picture of her minions' activities, but she really did have more special players on the sidelines waiting for their turn... and Brady's turn had something to do with him._

 _"When she was ready, your bestie Brady was going to go missing." Brady's voice rattled from his injuries. "We were going to make it a huge news story, so you'd hear about it. You'd investigate, be drawn out, and then she'd kill you."_

 _Sam's rage had faded into dread. "The last seal is her killing me?"_

 _"Or you killing her," Brady said with a twitch that might've been an attempt at a shrug before reciting, "'The first of the two seasons shall meet in battle and at the end of one, the sunrise on the field of death shall be the light of our father.' It doesn't matter who comes out on top. As soon as she's done with number sixty-five, she's going to come for you with everything she's got."_

* * *

 _Sam appeared in the living room of the rundown apartment where his family was still hunkered down. It had been three hours since he had disappeared with barely a goodbye. Dean immediately got up from the kitchen table where he'd been talking with Bobby and Castiel. He quickly hugged Sam, though he caught the slight scent of brimstone and Hell's unholy ozone on him, which made him feel a little faint. Despite the painful memories the smell revived in him, Dean was relieved that he was back safely and tried not to immediately recoil in a display of repulsion. After clinging to him for a second, he let go of Sam, took a look at his reckless little brother, then shoved him hard in the chest._

 _"For fuck's sake, Sam! What did you do?" Dean yelled at him._

 _His anger came from a place of helplessness and fear. Knowing that, Sam didn't have any hostility to return and tried to accept whatever frustration was going to come his way. Bobby and Castiel watched their interaction, but didn't attempt to get involved just yet._

 _"Did you get a good deal?" Ruby asked._

 _She was standing in the doorway to the hall, holding Kaylee. Her expression was unreadable, which signaled to Sam that she could easily be as upset as Dean. He'd seen her yell and fume with rage, but it was when she was too quiet that he knew to be concerned._

 _"We'll find out," Sam replied, unable to give her a better answer._

 _Dean covered his face with his hand. "Fucking hell."_

 _Bobby asked what they'd all been wondering. "Did you sell your soul?"_

 _"Not in the normal countdown-until-hellhounds way. I'm going to help Crowley—in Hell," Sam explained, causing Dean and Bobby to look defeated, while Ruby continued to have that unsettlingly-reserved expression. "In exchange, they went out trying to protect our friends that I thought might be in danger. There's a place where everyone can be safe and they have an idea for mobile protection too. It's not perfect, but it's better than being trapped in this shitty little apartment while people out there are dying and Lilith is trying to bust out Lucifer."_

 _"How long will you have to be in Hell?" Ruby asked._

 _Sam's mouth felt dry, but after taking a moment to gather his courage he said, "The current plan is six hours a day, Earth time; possibly more in an emergency."_

 _Dean knew that time ran longer down there, but he'd never really bothered to figure out the ratio. "How long is six hours in Hell time?"_

 _"About thirty days," Ruby answered._

 _Dean paced for a moment and bit his knuckle to stop himself from cursing. "So what, you get like eighteen hours up here for every month down there? For how long?" Dean asked, but he already knew the answer._

 _"If things get better down there, I might be able to be topside more." Sam's eyes evaded everyone else's. "But in terms of being on the hook for going down at all: until I die…. Maybe longer depending on which direction I go."_

 _Sam talking around the issue of his potential damnation didn't escape anyone._

 _"Dammit, Sammy! You should've talked to us first!" Dean's resentment of the situation was becoming muddied with his pity for his brother, but it also revived some of the feelings of betrayal. Sam had gone behind his back again. It was a forced and desperate decision, but it still hurt to be completely left out of the conversation. In spite of the pain, Dean tried to keep focused on expressing concern for Sam rather than real anger._

 _"I couldn't take it. We were trapped here while they were out there killing our friends because of me. We can't stay here forever. We needed to be able to regroup—have a place where we could bring our friends who're still alive. I had the chance to keep my family safe. What's to talk about?" Sam knew that it was a lot for them to hear, but he just spent what felt like days working to find them a solution and this degree of pushback surprised him._

 _"And what about you? Do you have any idea what spending all that time in Hell is going to do to you? You don't know what it's like down there." Dean's voice rose and cracked. It'd been one of his highest priorities to keep his little brother from the Pit and through some crazy turn he'd managed to fail magnificently. It would have been funny if it wasn't so sad…. Sam always did have a way of beating the odds and ending up in outrageous situations._

 _"They're not going to be torturing me. I just have to helping keep the place from falling apart." Sam threw his hands out in mild exasperation. It was bad, but the deal wasn't anything like Dean's deal and he wanted to find a way to convince them._

 _"You just have to help them keep the torture machine running—and you think there's any way that that isn't going to eat you alive?!"_

 _Dean wasn't even thinking about Sam's excessive empathy, just the intrinsic stress and strain created by such an unhealthy environment. Sam had always been the sensitive one—the pure one, in an apparently backward way—and now he was going to spend nearly all his time in the most corrupting place imaginable._

 _"It might, but that's my burden to bear." Sam's voice grew defensive._

 _"Bullshit!" Dean shouted. "That's on all of us—you've got people in your life that fucking care about you and we're not turning our backs. You're prepared to sacrifice yourself for us. Well maybe we don't want to see you go through this!"_

 _Kaylee started crying, silencing the argument. Sam closed his eyes for a poignant moment before looking at Ruby. She rocked their daughter a little, but couldn't stop the crying. Sam walked over and extended his arms, offering to take Kaylee. Ruby gave him their daughter, then watched him in contemplation for several seconds as he soothed Kaylee back to sleep._

 _"How long before you're due back?" she asked with a tension in her voice that worried Sam._

 _"I've got 12 hours to get us all moved over and figured out. After that I'm going to be gone for a day or so, then it switches to the six-hours-per-day rotation." He knew that Ruby could instantly convert the "a day or so" into the subjective span of several months, and that it would take Bobby and Dean no time at all to figure that out if they wanted to. If anyone was thinking critically enough they'd know that he was going to be facing something big._

 _Ruby glanced at Dean and Bobby, then looked back to Sam. He was standing uncertainly in the middle of the room. Kaylee was clutched almost nervously to his chest. The expression on his face was vulnerability and confusion. He was waiting for her to lay into him and she decided to accept his full attention._

 _"When we talked about whether or not to have the kid," Ruby began, "you said that I could leave if the situation wasn't right for me."_

 _It was like Ruby had dropped a bomb with the sentence. Sam's heart lurched and he was suddenly faced with an entirely new type of fear. Dean and Bobby both froze, unsure of where the conversation was going and what the couple had previously agreed to._

 _"I could leave and, what," she continued, "Dean or Bobby would have to babysit almost half their time, every single day? You didn't even talk to them or me? I'm not saying that you have to take care of Kaylee 24/7, but they didn't sign on to have a kid and I never promised to stay."_

 _Sam had been shaken to his core by the thought. "You... you might leave?"_

 _"I'm not leaving; not anytime soon. But you better remember that this is a give-and-take relationship—same as between you and them." Ruby gestured at Bobby and Dean. "I'm gonna keep trying to make this work, but if you make decisions about my life or Kaylee's life without at least consulting me first…. I don't know what I'd do. We're a team; remember that."_

 _Sam nodded in solemn understanding. It was true that among the people currently standing in the room, he'd had the bargaining power with Crowley, yet he wasn't the only one with an interest in the outcome. He'd made such a big deal about wanting to support his family that he'd forgotten how much they supported him in return. Dean had barely told him anything about his time in Hell and Ruby still bore emotional scars even after having centuries to adjust. He wanted to help them recover from the trauma, but it hadn't occurred to him that they'd be trying to support him in real time, which could prove just as bad or maybe even worse._

 _After a few seconds, Ruby moved closer to him and wrapped an arm around his torso in a partial hug. His free arm pulled her tight to him and he kissed the top of her head._

 _"I'm sorry," He whispered into her hair. "I was just trying to make things better."_

 _"I know. You always are."_


	40. Settling

"What was the deal?" Dean asked Kaylee, Tom, and Dylaniel.

He was looking at the concrete floor in something between disorientation and deep reflection. Sam had made some sort of deal, gotten himself in deep, and then what? What had it done to him? Tom had said that for the first few months it had really messed with Sam, but Kaylee barely seemed aware of that. It had changed him. How could it not? The questions were, 'How much?' and 'in what ways?' But more than that, Dean needed to know how it had happened, so that he could prevent it from happening to his own brother.

"It had a few changes to it while they were figuring out how to make it work. Basically, Dad took on the role of King of Hell, but for the first few years Crowley was the power behind the throne, until Dad got the hang of it." Kaylee spoke about Sam needing time to adjust to Hell as if it was an understandable character flaw, which made Dean scowl slightly "In exchange his friends and family were protected to the best of Hell's ability while still having autonomy."

"He traded his freedom and dignity for us to not be stuck in that apartment?" Dean thought he might've thrown up if there had been anything in his stomach.

"It was more than just that," Tom said in Sam's defense. "Maybe it wasn't perfect, but it was what we needed at the time. We'd all lost so much and the deal let us start rebuilding our lives."

* * *

 _December 16, 2009 10:35am_

 _Catching the group up on Crowley's plan and the development with Brady was easier than Sam had expected. After the initial venting of frustration, everyone calmed down and tried to be supportive as best they could. They were all beyond fatigued, which let them take the news in relatively quiet contemplation. After the recap, Sam began talking about their strategy going forward._

 _"I hate to say it, but I think we have to plan like I really am Lucian. If we don't and it turns out to be true, we could get screwed fast."_

 _"You playing along in Hell is one thing, but us going with it is another." Dean crossed his arms and chewed his lip slightly. "I don't care what some book or demon politician says. You're my brother. Neither of us want me treating you like you're some champion of Hell."_

 _"I mean, you don't have to treat me any different—please don't," Sam told him. "It's just that for defense and strategizing going forward it makes a difference. The last seal is a showdown between Lilith and Lucian. If one of them kills the other, we have until the next sunrise before Lucifer is freed. If I'm really Lucian, I can't just be treating her like any other enemy." Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "I can't fight her on Earth, ever. And I can't let her get the jump on me. Somebody else has to be the one to kill her. She's too smart to fight me in Hell. There's no sunrise down there. Morrison thinks it has to happen on Earth."_

 _"So you went from being the best person to fight her to the worst," Bobby bemoaned._

 _"Until someone else shows up claiming to be Lucian I don't know what else to think," Sam replied apologetically. "Her betting money is on me and I don't want to give her a chance to be proven right."_

 _"You're going to have to stay off the grid up here, until we can find and kill her for you," Dean said, then he remembered that the angels would still be hunting Sam even if Lilith was taken care of. "Sammy, you really have a gift for making people want to kill you."_

 _"Yeah, I know." Sam rewrapped part of Kaylee's blanket. "I'm extra, extra out-of-commission on Earth…. It doesn't change that much when it comes down to it. The stakes are just higher if things go wrong with Lilith."_

 _"I'll see if I can figure out how to ask around online about the demon scene on Earth without alerting the angels," Bobby volunteered._

 _"If Crowley's people turn anything up, I'll forward it to you." Sam felt a little weird about already offering the services of demons, but he shrugged it off as something he'd need to get used to eventually. "But that still doesn't deal with how to kill Lilith. She's going to be pretty untouchable. And even if we could find her, I'm the only one that's immune to her light-beam thing."_

 _"I am not entirely immune to the Light of Hell, but it might not kill me. I could fight Lilith," Castiel suggested. The angel had been silently standing back from the main circle of discussion and the others had largely forgotten he was even there._

 _"'Might not' kill you is a pretty big risk," Dean commented with renewed concern. "You're probably the most powerful weapon we have against Lilith and you're telling us that she might be able to kill you?"_

 _"We do not know if the Light of Hell is lethal to all angels or if Sam's use of his power was unique in that way. Also, I am weaker since falling and may be more susceptible to harm."_

 _"I'll reach out to Morrison," Ruby interjected. "Depending on what he's already got in the works, I might be able to work on something to either help kill Lilith or angels—or maybe protect against the beams." She shrugged in response to all of the guys glancing at Kaylee. "Just because I'm staying doesn't mean that I'm gonna be a stay-at-home mom. I've got shit to do. Someone needs to level the playing field for you boys."_

 _"Level the playing field for all of us," Sam added in an attempt to not exclude Ruby._

 _"Please, I'm good already. You never asked me how many angels I took down at the coven." She smiled softly up at Sam, who huffed out a little chuckle and kissed her forehead._

 _"So, what? Ruby, Bobby, and Crowley will research. Castiel is going to train or research or whatever to get ready for ganking Lilith. Meanwhile Sam's going to try to convince Hell he's Lucian?" Dean asked, refocusing the conversation._

 _"About that…." Sam began. "The surviving members of the Council want me to use the name while down there because of the weight it carries for some demons, but I'm not sure…." He paused for a moment to try to figure out how to explain the situation in a palatable way. "I'm not sure how much convincing it'll really take. There's something about me that I don't understand, but a few things clicked when I was down there."_

 _"What?"_

 _"It's not like I liked it. It's just that the parts of me that are strange up here weren't down there." Sam avoided Dean's eyes while he was speaking, but after the confession was voiced he shook off some of the shame._

 _"You mean the Abyssal in you?" Bobby asked._

 _"I guess. I mean, I used my powers and it didn't hurt or make me tired. It felt…." Sam took a deep breathe while trying to figure out how to articulate his feelings. "I felt normal. I didn't feel... corrupted."_

 _Ruby's warm attentiveness wilted slightly at his words at the thought that maybe on some level she'd contributed to his feelings of wrongness. He shot her an apologetic glance, but Dean didn't notice the subtle conflict and continued talking._

 _"Sammy, you don't feel bad because you're surrounded by worse. You shouldn't be giving in to those feelings. If you start using demons as your yardstick about what's right, then you're gonna be in big trouble."_

 _"I'm not just blowing off my morals. It's not really like that." Sam thought about telling them about Shola, but he didn't feel like getting into the whole crisis-of-faith talk just then. It was a conversation better saved for a quiet evening, possibly over a beer… or an entire six-pack._

 _"I just don't want them suckering you in by playing nice or some other trick." Dean's voice had the softness of good-natured concern rather than being dismissive of Sam's willpower._

 _Sam smiled weakly at Dean in a way that he hoped was reassuring. "They're definitely trying to manipulate me. I know that, but it's more than that…. Hell and I fit together in a weird way—I can touch the throne." They all looked surprised by the news, but Ruby and Castiel were both visibly shocked. "I actually sat on it. The Seat, it's actually a big dead tree—well, it's not dead, not when I touch it. It's been dead for as long as any of the demons can remember, but when I…. It bloomed... It was beautiful."_

 _Ruby gripped Sam's sleeve and moved her mouth, as if to speak, but the words didn't come at first. "But… nothing in Hell is beautiful."_

* * *

 _"So we've got a new place to hide out and you said something about protecting our friends too. You mean some of the other hunters?" Bobby asked, eager to finally explore the positive side of Sam's deal._

 _"I tried to cover all the hunters that might be traced to me. I had Crowley's people try to find and get them to safety. The ones they were able to rescue were moved to a secure location." Sam pointed toward a duffel that he'd brought with him but that went unnoticed in the emotional reunion. "We have some angel-caliber hex bags to avoid detection. Maybe Castiel can take Dean and Bobby to go explain things to them—Ruby should probably go too. There are two hunters and three of the expat coven members."_

 _"Only two?" Bobby exhaled in anguish._

 _"Ellen and Jo?" Dean asked hopefully._

 _Sam just shook his head. He'd nearly broken down at the news that they had been killed. Based on Crowley's report they had probably died shortly after the attack on the coven. Even though he hadn't seen them in over two years, the thought of them being murdered and left to rot for a whole day was incredibly upsetting. They were the closest thing he'd known to a mother and sister. They really were family._

 _"I had their bodies moved somewhere safe. We can give them traditional pyres." Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "I thought they'd have wanted—"_

 _Dean turned away from the group, then yelled as he punched a wall, putting his fist through the softened drywall. As he began pulling his bleeding hand from the hole, he gripped the wall and rested his forehead against it._

 _Belda came out from the larger bedroom at the noise. "What happened?" she asked._

 _"We lost some more friends," Sam explained, causing her to nod with an intimate understanding of the pain they felt. As she made to return to the bedroom, he reached out a hand to stop her. "Actually, we managed to locate three coven members. Do you know Isabelle Blair, Florence Marin, or Aimee Gramont?"_

 _"Aimé! He's alive?" Belda covered her open mouth with her hand and then made a slight fanning motion to dry her watering eyes. "He's my brother."_

 _Dean looked over at her with a strange combination of gratitude and envy. She seemed like a nice enough woman, who'd just been through an ordeal. Yet he couldn't help but feel like his life was cursed to never catch the easy breaks. He wrapped a spare rag around his hand until he could ask Cas to heal it properly._

 _"He's safe. You'll be able to see him in a bit, after we've relocated someplace safer," Ruby said in reassurance. "Do you know Isabelle and Florence?"_

 _"Isa's a park ranger somewhere in Alaska. She's really nice and outdoorsy…." Belda closed her eyes while considering how much more to say. "She also had a reputation for being one of the best recreational alchemists around."_

 _"Recreational alchemist?" Dean asked._

 _"She makes drugs?" Sam guessed, recalling that over half of the adults in the coven had used one variety of intoxicant or another at the bonfire._

 _"I always found her very high-functioning, but yeah." Belda shrugged. "Flo…. That might be interesting. She's an engineer, but I don't know what she does exactly—other than something that involves security clearance. It took a lot of work for the coven to get her through all of the background checks. I've probably only seen her two or three times since she left for college."_

 _"Did we just kidnap a spy?" Dean asked Sam, who looked surprisingly concerned by the thought considering where grabbing Florence had fallen on the spectrum of his day's events._

 _"She's an engineer, so she's probably a contractor," Bobby suggested. "But 'what kind?' is a good question."_

 _"You know what," Ruby interjected. "Belda should go greet the three of them instead of me. They haven't seen me in this meatsuit and we shouldn't be wasting time trying to get them to trust us. Sam and I can watch the litter while you all are gone, then we can move everyone to the new place in a few groups."_

 _"Are you going to be okay?" Belda asked, stopping just short of offering to stay._

 _"We'll be fine. Just try not to take too long. Sam's on a schedule."_

 _After handing out hex bags, Cas teleported Dean, Bobby, and Belda to the warehouse where the survivors were being held. Isabelle, Florence, and Aimé all immediately recognized and were briefed by Belda. Meanwhile, Bobby and Dean explained the situation to Rufus Turner and Tamara Chikenzie. In the end Rufus and Tamara both opted to take hex bags and do their best dodging angels on the road, but all three expat witches accepted the invitation to stay with the remnants of their old coven._

* * *

 _The sanctuary that Crowley's people had found was a small lakeside resort in the middle of the Canadian wilderness that was warded in nearly every way imaginable. It wasn't clear if the resort had been abandoned or if all of the previous occupants had been killed—Sam was grateful that no one asked. In some ways it reminded him of the camp that Ruby's coven had lived in, which he hoped would make the transition easier for the children._

 _There were a dozen wooden cabins and what had probably been a visitor center. Half of the cabins were on the edge of the lake, complete with small piers. The cabins varied in size, between one and four bedrooms, and came fully furnished. To Sam's relief, Crowley had held up his end of the bargain in ensuring the habitability of their new home._

 _Dean, Bobby, Florence, and Isabelle all took one-bedroom cabins. Bobby beat Florence in a game of target shooting for the nicer of the two one-bedroom cabins overlooking the lake, though Dean pointed out that Bobby's win was by a very narrow margin._

 _Castiel didn't claim a cabin since he had no need for possessions or sleep. Instead he seemed to be content merely loitering throughout the camp. While the others were figuring out living arrangements, he stood on one of the piers and watched the lake in contemplation of things that the others didn't even guess at._

 _Belda suggested that she try to stay in the same cabin with as many of the children as possible. She claimed one of the four-bedroom cabins and attempted to divide up the rooms to accommodate all the children. She and Aimé each took a bedroom to share with one of the two infants. As she attempted to divide up the remaining two bedrooms between the five older children, it became obvious that they were staring down a tight fit with three kids in a single room. She decided to consult Ruby, who was looking through the smaller cabins._

 _When they had arrived at the camp, Tom had anxiously taken Ruby's hand and opted to explore with her and Sam. After a few minutes of apparent safety, Tom had become emboldened enough to let go of Ruby, but he stayed close by. When Belda peeked her head into the living room of the cabin Ruby and Sam were looking over, Tom was off exploring one of the bedrooms._

 _"Rubahnali, can I talk to you for a moment?" Belda asked quietly, uncertain if the couple had claimed the cabin and she was entering their personal space._

 _"Sure, what's up?" Ruby replied._

 _She stopped investigating the contents of the kitchen's cupboards and walked across the combination kitchen, dining room, and living room. Sam came out of one of the bedrooms at the sound of voices._

 _"I was planning on using one of the four-bedroom cabins for Aimé, the children, and myself, but I don't think we'll fit. I was hoping to keep the older kids two to a room since most of them are still recovering—I think keeping them close together would be best for now. The whole trauma has caused a lot of attachment issues and it'd probably be easier on them if they're close together until things get settled down," Belda explained. "But I'm going to have to split them between two smaller cabins so that we don't have overcrowding in one of the bedrooms. Is it okay to take two cabins or do you think we should try to leave them open if we have anymore refugees?"_

 _"I'm not sure who else would be arriving, but if it comes to it we could always move people around," Sam suggested. He wasn't sure who else would get pulled into their mess, but there was a possibility that once Bobby got back into contact with the hunters' network that there'd be a few more people in need of protection._

 _"Which cabins were you thinking?" Ruby asked as she considered the ones she'd been looking at for her, Sam, and Kaylee._

 _"There's a two-bedroom across from a three-bedroom on the end. I figure they should be as close together as possible, so that Aimé can get me if he needs help. Three kids with Aimé and four with me."_

 _"You going to be okay outnumbered four-to-one? I know you'll be getting help during the day, but still," Sam said with a newfound appreciation for her endurance after watching the children when she was away collecting Aimé, Isa, and Flo._

 _"I'll manage or after the third night without sleep I'll start slipping them under your doors," Belda joked, but she did have small bags of fatigue forming under her eyes._

 _"We can figure out a way to make this work." Ruby gave her a sympathetic smile. "You shouldn't have to take so much of the burden with the kids."_

 _"Bobby and Isa have both offered to help with the children during the day. It's the nights that I'm more worried about. I feel bad for Aimé. He'll be juggling three without me—I know I'm only across the way, but he's only ever watched one kid at a time before."_

 _Tom crept out of the bedroom he'd been looking over. He approached Belda cautiously in a way that reminded Sam of when he'd first met the boy. The three adults watched him as he shifted from foot to foot nervously. After a moment of hesitation he looked up at Belda with resolve._

 _"Could I stay here?" he asked, but only received confused looks. "With Sam and Ruby?"_

 _The three adults exchanged surprised glances. Belda opened her mouth to say something, but it wasn't really her place to grant or deny Tom's request. Ruby looked at Sam, who raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in an armless shrug. Neither of them were particularly against the suggestion, but it was unexpected._

 _"Are you sure you don't want to stay with the other kids?" Ruby asked him._

 _Tom looked up at Kaylee, who was sleeping in Sam's arms. "Is the baby staying with you?"_

 _"Well, yeah—"_

 _"I want to help with the baby," he replied. "Dean said he was helping with Sam when he was even younger than me."_

 _Sam thought back to Tom sneaking into his room at the apartment after having nightmares and suspected that the boy's motivation wasn't solely to help with Kaylee. He'd also been through a trauma like Belda had said, but instead of clinging to the other children, he'd been largely inseparable from his two rescuers._

 _Sam looked at Ruby, who gave a small shrug. She wasn't indifferent as such; she liked Tom after all. He was a good kid that Sam had a nice little friendship with and he wanted to help take care of Kaylee. Even if it was a surprise to have him stay with them it wasn't as bad as it had been a few hours earlier, when they were sharing an apartment with over a dozen people._

 _Once things settled down more and the kids felt safer, there would probably be a reshuffling of the living arrangements. At that point Tom could figure out what he wanted to do in the long-term. Until then, he could stay with them if he wanted and they would have an extra set of hands to help with Kaylee._

 _"Okay… Sure."_

 _"I already found my room!" Tom shouted through the first smile he'd had since the attack as he ran into one of the bedrooms._

* * *

 _It took a few hours to get more or less everything sorted out in the camp. To everyone's delight, all the kitchens and bathrooms in the camp came fully stocked. Belda made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the children while Isa made the closest thing she could to oxtail stew with the groceries available. Both sets of comfort food pleased their audiences, who ate together in the converted visitors center._

 _The dinner was cathartic in many ways. The children ran around playing tag, fueled by sugar and the thrill of having open space again. More in-depth introductions were made with Aimé, Isa, and Flo. A few beers were consumed, which opened the floodgates to embarrassing childhood stories. Eventually, Dean and Flo devolved into a friendly competition over who knew the most about firearms, which amused Sam and Bobby to no end._

 _As the sky darkened, the stress of the last few days caught up with everyone, resulting in an earlier night. Dean gave Sam a long hug and pat on the cheek before stumbling off to try to figure out which cabin was his. Bobby hugged Sam, then patted a few of the kids' heads affectionately as he called it a night. Belda and Aimé herded the children off to the biggest cabin with only a few straying. Isa and Flo snuck off to Isa's cabin while snickering and talking in Dagbani. After getting back to their cabin, Tom quickly hugged Sam and Ruby respectively then ran off to the bedroom he'd claimed._

 _Sam made a little ritual of putting Kaylee down for the night, for the first time in a real crib in something resembling a real home. He sang "Hey Jude" because Dean had mentioned that their mom used to sing it to them, but Sam wasn't quite sure of all the words. After running out of known lyrics and probably repeating a few sections too many times, he switched to singing songs he was more familiar with. Kaylee finally fell asleep partway into "How Low" by Jose Gonzalez. He watched her silently for a few minutes before looking for Ruby._

 _He found Ruby continuing her investigation of the small kitchen. She stopped fiddling with the coffeemaker when he came in. He wordlessly wrapped his arms around her. She let him hug her without interruption for almost an entire minute before she spoke._

 _"Are you okay?" Her voice was soft with concern._

 _"No," he admitted. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier, about feeling corrupted."_

 _"Is that how you really feel?"_

 _"Yes and no? I'm grateful that you saved my life and I don't rationally have a problem with it, but there's this feeling. I've had it ever since I was a kid. It was like I knew there was something wrong with me." He loosened his embrace a little so that he could look her in the eyes. "I remember I was just a kid reading about King Arthur and his knights— I always wanted to be Lancelot, but I knew that I never could because I wasn't…. I don't know, I guess, pure enough, if that makes sense. Since finding out about the demon blood, I've been able to almost feel it. It's like a poison that's pumping through my veins, but it doesn't hurt me. It just feels like something's off."_

 _He let go of her and paced slightly while rubbing his hands together anxiously. He'd never told anyone about the feeling before. It had been a private shame even before finding out about the blood—afterward it had been so much worse. If he'd have told someone earlier, could they have figured it out and how would've things been different? The weight of everything that had gone wrong crept onto his shoulders at the thought._

 _"And when you're in Hell you don't feel that wrongness?" She tried to understand, but Hell had a way of making even demons want to flee. The idea of feeling by some degree better for being there was unheard of._

 _"Pretty much. I feel a whole different type of wrongness." Sam walked into the dining area, sat down on one of the chairs and stared at the hardwood floor. "I'm scared that I can't handle this."_

 _"It'll be hard. You knew that when you signed up for it."_

 _"I killed Brady. I tortured him first," Sam confessed as Ruby sat down at the table next to him and took his hands in hers. "I'm sure Crowley will want me to make a few examples of captured higher-ups from Lilith's side, to help secure power when we make the push for control. He'll probably want to string up the bodies from the Central wall like Charlemagne. I don't know if I can do that."_

 _"That's why you'll be gone for so long…." She could imagine some political theatrics within Central that would likely be fine, though there might be some resistance to the idea of a human leading Hell—possibly even just the switch over from republic rule to a monarchy would be enough to cause some drama. Then there'd come the announcement to Lilith's troops. Ideally it would cause division in her ranks, but there was a significant risk that it would just reignite the conflict. Sam would be down there long enough to poke the sleeping lion and see how it'd react. The question was how much his abilities could overcome his status as an outsider and Lilith's holy mission. So Crowley would put Sam's powers on display, including his most impressive ones. "You can kill, in Hell?"_

 _"Yeah. It wasn't any harder than on Earth for me…. It actually was easier—natural." His lip trembled slightly. "I know that I've killed demons before, but this was different. Everyone down there is a demon. They aren't the ones coming in and causing carnage—that's me."_

 _"They're in a war. It's not like they're completely innocent." She wanted to say something to make it easier on him, but she was having difficulty balancing reassurance and acknowledgement of his very real dilemma._

 _"I know. It's just... down there they have faces and names…." He struggled to talk around the tightness in his throat. "I found out that my best friend in college was one of Azazel's minions almost the whole time I knew him. I killed him. I keep thinking that in spite of the betrayal, he was actually one of the best friends I'd ever had. He was a person, not some demonic drone. You're a person."_

 _"Sam, they're individuals fighting down there for whatever personal reasons just like any other war. If you weren't down there, they'd still be trying to kill each other, and our side would almost certainly be the losing one. I'm not saying that you're going to single-handedly fight Lilith's army, but if you can bring some order and leadership…. I don't know. Maybe some blood on the hands might be the price for survival."_

 _"They're going to break me—make me into something I don't want to be…. I don't want to be a tyrant, but how can the King of Hell be anything else?"_

 _"You're stronger, smarter, and more good than you think. They don't need you to be cruel; they need you to be effective. Show them your value now and they may not even try to break you." She picked up his hand and kissed it. "I know you wanted to be Lancelot, but you're gonna have to settle for Arthur."_

 _He smiled sadly at her. "In Hell."_

 _"No job is perfect."_

 _She scooted her chair closer to him and pulled on his shirt to bring his face to hers. Her lips closed the distance. It was a sad and longing kiss, which they seemed to be having a lot of recently, but it was also comforting. Sam regretfully broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers._

 _"They're pulling me back down in about an hour. I don't know—"_

 _Ruby grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into a desperate kiss. He wrapped an arm around her back, then pulled her onto his lap. His hand started sliding up underneath her shirt, but she stopped him. Sam looked at her in confusion until she took his hand and started leading him to their bedroom._

 _"You're going away for a few months." She pushed Sam backward onto the bed, then climbed on top of him. "That's worth me having to smoke out for a few minutes while you're away. It's not a good long-term plan, but right now I'm not thinking past the next hour."_


	41. We've Got Work To Do

_January 05, 2010_

 _Dean had mixed feelings about moving to the camp. It was true that they seemed to be fairly well hidden, but at what cost? Independent of everything Sam had given up for their protection, there were other downsides. Technically, they were in Canada—though it was hard to tell because they barely had any interaction with the locals. They were largely isolated, roughly an hour's drive to the closest town and about three hours to reach a decent-sized city._

 _He tried to make the most of it, but he found himself suffering from a case of literal cabin fever combined with a strange fatigue that seemed to come from domestic life. He may have claimed a small cabin for himself, but he barely seemed to get any privacy. At least once or twice a day he was enlisted to help supervise the kids. He didn't mind the children as much as he'd expected, but being on-call for babysitting quickly became an excuse to do very little otherwise and sink into a rut._

 _The change wasn't nearly as difficult for Bobby, but then again the old hunter had been something of a shut-in to begin with. After the first week, Bobby had fully embraced the role of substitute grandpa to the eight children. He would spend half of his days working what remained of the hunter network online and half teaching the children who were old enough to understand what he was saying. All in all, Dean was happy that at least one of them had a relatively easy time adjusting to the new arrangements._

 _Not surprisingly, it was difficult getting used to Sam popping in and out. The first few days Sam looked exhausted or occasionally distraught. He always needed to be around other people, and almost always with Kaylee. Dean found the behavior a little obsessive until he reminded himself that Sam was always returning after a month away from home. He tried his best to be there for Sam, but there was an uncomfortable disconnect in their experiences of Hell. Dean had been on the opposite side of the experience from what his brother was enduring. They settled for Sam confiding feelings and abstract concepts to him, while reserving more divisive and detailed confessions for Ruby._

 _After a week or so, Sam started being a bit less clingy and explained that he was starting to figure out how to partition the divided time in his mind. He wasn't really losing out on much of his family life, he was just having subjectively long asides. Dean didn't quite understand it, but as long as Sam was feeling better he wasn't about to complain._

 _Once the chaos had died down and everyone had fallen into a routine, Dean found himself more bored than he'd ever been in his life. It'd been over a month without a hunt, which was the longest period of inactivity he'd had since he was a teenager. Their only priority since the run-in with Uriel and Tambriel had been survival and getting stabilized. But now that that was over with, things had turned hopelessly mundane._

* * *

 _There was a knock on the front door to Dean's cabin. He looked up from The Killing Joke and eyed the door warily. It was about ten feet away from the couch that he was lying on, which meant it was about nine feet too far to be bothered with. Anyway, it wasn't like he locked the door. When your main threat was angels, who really bothered with a deadbolt?_

 _"Yeah," he shouted, but when no one came in he tossed the trade paperback onto his coffee table. "Come on in, Cas."_

 _The angel didn't bother opening the door, instead he just appeared in the tiny combination living room and kitchenette. Dean sighed, but didn't comment on Cas's continual inability to figure out proper etiquette for entering property or personal space._

 _"I need your help."_

 _Dean stretched, but didn't really do anything that would give the false impression of him actually getting off the couch. He scratched the stubble that he'd accidentally neglected long enough that it was probably objectively a beard. It had become commonplace for Cas to ask for Dean's 'insight' at least a dozen times a day, but 'help' was a rarer request that usually implied some physical labor. At least the angel had stopped using the overly formal 'I require your assistance.'_

 _"What do you need help with?"_

 _"I want to retrieve your car," Cas replied in a tone that should've been more excited about the prospective outing._

 _Dean sat up at mention of the Impala. "What?"_

 _"Your car—"_

 _"I meant why and how—and when. Just tell me what you were thinking of doing."_

 _"It has been moved from Bobby's driveway to an impound lot within Sioux Falls. When I located it ten minutes ago, there were no angels within several miles. I doubt that it is being watched. I wanted to bring it here, but it is too large for me to teleport and I do not have experience operating an automobile."_

 _"You want to spring Baby?" Dean's eyes glinted and he licked his lips excitedly._

 _After taking a moment to interpret Dean's question, Cas cautiously replied, "Yes, but we should be careful. Even though there may not be angels watching the car, we will need to be vigilant."_

 _"Yeah." Dean hopped up from the couch and waved his hand in acknowledgement of whatever Cas had said. A quick peek in a mirror while grabbing his coat to confirm that his not-quite-beard wasn't sufficiently disgusting to delay him with grooming, then smiled at Cas. "What're we waiting for? Let's go."_

* * *

 _They stood across the unlit street from the police impound lot. Sheriff Mills had ensured that Baby wasn't sold or scrapped, but she was too short on cash to bail the car herself. The Impala had become an object of speculation among the local police force when it was discovered that the trunk and glove box couldn't be 'found ajar.' It'd be obvious if a someone tried to take a metal saw to it, but everyone decided to take at least one shot at picking the lock on Excalibur. The result was a little too much attention on the Impala, but at least the attention seemed strictly human._

 _"I don't get it. Why aren't there angels watching her?" Dean asked while looking down the street for any potential witnesses._

 _"They would not see the relevance of the object. There is nothing of objective value in car."_

 _"All the power and minds of Heaven and they don't know to watch my most prized possession?"_

 _"Sentimentality is viewed as an undesirable emotion. They do not understand the importance that objects can hold for humans. Attachment to things and people…." Cas thought for a moment before explaining, "Most angels will try to avoid considering those emotions and in the process underestimate them."_

 _"They think I'm too smart to risk coming back for her?" Dean paraphrased, earning an uncertain glance from Cas. Instead of saying anything to reassure the angel, he laughed and said, "Time to show them."_

 _Cas teleported to the far side of the impound lot, then began pulling on car door handles until one set off an alarm. Dean watched as the cop in the guardhouse near the padlocked gate went to investigate. It wasn't exactly breaking into the Louvre, but Dean felt a little thrill as he approached the gate, large pair of bolt cutters in hand._

 _He was in and out with Baby in about thirty seconds. Half an hour later, Dean pulled into the gas station outside of Sioux Falls where they had agreed to regroup. Cas climbed into shotgun and they got back on the freeway heading southeast. They had agreed to take a long route back to the camp, to lose any would-be pursuers. After cycling through the radio stations for a few minutes, Dean opted to attempt some small talk._

 _"I don't suppose you could hop back over to Bobby's house and grab me some Zepp?" Dean quickly clarified, "Music—Zepp is short for Led Zeppelin, which is a band."_

 _"I suspect that Bobby's house will continue to be watched for a long time," Cas said in an almost apologetic tone._

 _"I thought you said angels don't care about possessions? Why would they be watching Bobby's and not my Baby?"_

 _"Bobby's house contains several objects that are potentially of strategic importance. Like I said, there is nothing of value in this car."_

 _"How did you know?" Dean's brow furrowed slightly at the realization. "You must've known that before you risked scoping it out."_

 _"I asked Ruby and Sam what they had left inside the car."_

 _Dean glanced at the angel for a moment. Cas had researched the situation before deciding to get the Impala. It hadn't been the impulsive act that Dean had assumed…. Granted, after getting some of the adrenaline out of his system, Dean realized just how out of character impulsive tendencies were for Cas. Thinking about it, Dean had never actually gotten the answer to his question of why. It was obvious why he would want to rescue Baby, but Cas hadn't even ridden in the Impala until then._

 _"Why did you want to do this?"_

 _"I heard Sam and Bobby talking about your discouraged state," Cas replied while looking out the window at the landscape. "Sam mentioned that you were probably missing your car and the freedom that it provided you."_

 _"You wanted to cheer me up?"_

 _Cas turn to look at him, then asked, "Did I succeed?"_

 _"Yeah, Cas." He nodded. "Thank you."_

 _Dean turned the volume back up on the radio and began explaining different aspects of the songs. Cas listened closely, both to the music and to Dean's commentary. After a few hours, they stopped at a diner for a quick breakfast. Dean managed to convince Cas to try eating something, under the pretense of pretending to be human while in public. As Cas warily reviewed the menu, Dean stepped outside to call and check in with Bobby. When he came back in, he had content smile on his face._

 _"Hey, Cas. How do you feel about taking a slight detour on the way back to hit a vampire nest for Bobby?"_

* * *

 _December 17, 2009_

 _"Are you okay?" Shola asked Sam._

 _He was anxiously fiddling with his simple silver ring. After holding the band tightly for whatever comfort he could squeeze from it, he slipped it back onto his left ring finger._

 _"I'm a little nervous," he confessed._

 _"That sounds about right."_

 _They were waiting in a minimalistic antechamber off of the main entry hall into the Citadel. He was grateful for the relative privacy. For what must've been a month by Hell's standards he had been running a diplomatic gauntlet with various archdemons and bureaucrats. There had been introductions, lessons on protocol and history, debates about policy and strategy, and more. He was given a short reprieve to get ready for the big unveiling, but as much as he tried to relax he just became painfully aware that the clock was counting down._

 _"I'm not sure I can pull this off." Playing at being the King of Hell was one thing; convincing anyone else was another. "They're not going to believe it—I don't believe it."_

 _"You need to remember that they want it to be true," she suggested. "Play to their weakness—"_

 _Sam huffed a pained laugh as he shook his head. "Hope is a weakness now?"_

 _"When it hinders scepticism, absolutely," Shola said as she smiled reassuringly. "Just carry yourself with some confidence and try to remember your little speech."_

 _"That's probably the part I'm most worried about." He shook his head in mild disbelief at what he would have to do. "They're making me say that stuff."_

 _"If it makes you feel any better, roughly 98% of the people hearing it will get it altered through translation or as it becomes passed through the chain of gossip."_

 _"That's comforting." Sam rolled his eyes at the prospect of having an additional layer of helplessness with regard to the message he was supposed to give to all of Hell._

 _"It'll mostly work in your favor. Like I said, the residents of Central all want you to be the leader we need. It'll be the alterations that Lilith's side will make that stand to be negative, but they are probably already belittling you."_

 _"I wonder what sorts of thing they say about Crowley…. No wonder he drinks constantly," Sam muttered even though he assumed that Crowley's demonic fortitude left him mostly unaffected by the endless flow of luxury scotches._

 _Sam compulsively adjusted his clothes. Crowley had insisted that he wear something other than plaid and denim while working. To his mild horror the topic became quite an ordeal with every archdemon and high-ranking adviser putting in their two cents. The compromise ended up being something akin to a suit, but with a tailored jacket that extended to the knees creating an almost tabard-like appearance. The longer Sam was in Hell the more he recognized a vague medieval aesthetic preference from the castes that didn't get topside very frequently._

 _At least two dozen suits had been created in different color palettes and with different accents, but for the big reveal Crowley had something special in mind. It was white with dark red embroidery that ascended the jacket, up to a high collar. The idea was to allude to the rumors that had spread after he was spotted on the Seat in full bloom. The red embroidery was mostly innocuous pattern work, but up close small red flowers were visible around the collar, cuffs, and bottom hem. The idea of wearing a white suit or something with flowers while addressing the armies of Hell seemed a little silly, but he wasn't going to argue with whatever passed for theatrics in their culture. It could have been much worse._

 _After taking a deep breath, Sam stepped out of the antechamber door into the entry hall and was surprised to see Mir standing patiently on the other side. The knight was silent and reserved as ever, but the fact that he wasn't beside the Seat for the first time since waking surely meant something. When Sam continued walking, Mir followed him a few feet behind and to the right._

 _"We're trying to avoid the appearance that you need a guard," groaned Crowley as he crossed the hall to meet Sam._

 _Crowley and the other archdemons had agreed that the best course of action would be to walk from the Citadel through Central to the wall, allowing the masses to get a firsthand look at the would-be King. Sam would be accompanied by the archdemons and a collection of trusted guards. It was suggested that surrounding Sam with guards would give an air of insecurity, so to his slight dismay the guards were instructed to stand at least thirty feet away from him and act more as crowd control._

 _"A knight is different than just some guard," Shola pointed out. "If he sees something in Sam, then it's an asset to us."_

 _"Lucian," Crowley corrected as he looked Sam over for flaws that needed to be dealt with. "Outside your present company you both follow the guiding principle of 'fake it til you make it.'"_

 _"You aren't going to be joining us in this charade?" Sam asked, betraying his nerves._

 _"Nonsense. I just have a different mode of support. I can't lie for you, but I'll be there to give pointed suggestions and slide by on technicalities." The archdemon smiled innocently. "You know: politics."_

* * *

 _The journey to the wall between Central and the Pits took an entire day. Luckily, fatigue and hunger didn't seem to be an issue in Hell, unless it was part of a dedicated torture regiment. He found it a bit disorienting, losing all the normal measures of time: nights, exhaustion, and the need for meals. Without the indicators of time, tasks took as long as they needed to in order to be completed, and if it had took a week to walk to the wall then that's just how it'd go._

 _In the back of the procession were the prisoners that Sam was expected to execute. There had been many lengthy discussions about what was necessary to establish him as a powerful presence. The initial suggestion was the obvious choice to kill the highest ranking prisoners of war that they had. But Sam shot the idea down as merely making martyrs of them. After a long debate it was agreed that the approximately one thousand prisoners of war would be divided into four categories:_

 _The highest ranking and most inspirational demons would be publicly buried away into the dullest prison possible, to live out eternity in crippling monotony. In truth there was a tentative plan to quietly execute them once they were out of recent memory. There had been a debate over whether they should be killed at all, but the leading theory was that the risks of keeping them alive outweighed the risks of public outrage if their executions came to light. Sam wasn't particularly thrilled with this determination, but it seemed to be a non-issue for the moment._

 _The most opportunistic of the prisoners were held apart from the rest with the intention of eventual recruitment. Crowley pointed out that for those who only wanted to be on the winning side, once the tides turned in the Pits, should be an incredibly predictable resource. If the alliance's forces could properly retake and entrench in the Pits, Lilith would have almost no leverage to outbid Sam and Crowley for the demon sellswords._

 _Sam firmly requested that the lowest ranking and common demons be given an opportunity to repent and join them. After torturing Brady and talking with several other demons, Sam had noticed that he could read demons' internal turmoil fairly easily. He suggested that even if it would took months or years… even decades, if Lilith's minions wanted to change their loyalty, he would hear every one of them out. The arches had initially disapproved, seeing the potential for pardons as a sign of weakness, but in time they reached a compromise. If Sam found one of Lilith's demons to be insincere, he would publicly execute them, which would reinforce his dominance. As much as Sam disliked the idea of more killing, he had to admit that it would likely cut down on false penance pretty quickly._

 _The last group was the prisoners that would be made into examples. They were the demons that no one on either side would mourn, yet everyone had heard of. The most vile and infamous officers that were hated by their underlings and enemies alike. Lilith's army would gossip about the executions, but it wouldn't cause any heartfelt outrage. Luckily, in Hell most demons had been tortured by their superiors at one point or another, so it was just a matter of finding the ones that had no remotely redeemable qualities._

 _After reaching the wall, Sam and his party ascended a staircase to a point where they could overlook both sides. It was the first time he'd seen Lilith's army. Beyond the wall, in the Pits, there was an expanse of probably ten thousand demons. The terrain was irregular, so he couldn't see as far as he would have been able to on Earth, but he knew that there were even more demons surrounding Central District on all sides. Many of Lilith's soldiers were in a state of casual alertness, waiting for some sort of action to begin. A few supply stations were visible in the distance, but generally it was obvious that they were at a stalemate. When the closest ones saw Sam and the archdemons arrive, they gave their hostile yet full attention to the new development._

 _He was shaking slightly, but from so far away he trusted that no one could tell. With just a few sentences he would be taking a new plunge into the madness that had somehow become his life. He'd been working in Hell behind the scenes for what was five weeks local time, but that was hidden away within the Citadel and the inner circle. This was going to start the more public phase of the plan. All the most popular rumors of Hell would be settled and replaced by new gossip and theories sprouting from the next few minutes._

 _The more unnerving part was that inevitably word would spread to Earth about the change in politics, but worse was how it was going to sound. He was going to have to feign a certain level of piety in order to utilize the brand of Lucian and strengthen the idea of a divine monarchy. That meant that he would have to reframe his past. As for his feelings on Lucifer, he'd have to outright lie. He tried to quell his anxiety for a moment before he began the performance._

 _"Many of you know me as Sam Winchester," he shouted._

 _Several demons on the wall acted as translators and cryers for the crowds. The odd hissing sound of Abyssal spread through both groups of demons as his speech was passed along. He could feel them all watching him with interest: one side hopeful, the other antagonistic— At least he had their attention._

 _"I was chosen by Lucifer to lead Hell. Before I could complete the trials put before me Lilith attempted to usurp control. She has only succeeded in dividing and weakening Hell. The archdemons beside me have endorsed my leadership and agreed to act as my advisors. With their assistance and with reverence to the will of Lucifer, I am here to accept my destiny. I have bound myself with oaths of loyalty to Hell. Know me now as Lucian, the true champion of Hell, who will bring the second season."_

 _Cheering rose up from the Central side of the wall, but it quieted when Sam turned to specifically address Lilith's army in the Pits. Every single soldier within view was watching him, and small murmurs rose from her army._

 _"Lilith has led you on a false crusade. If you sincerely wish to lay down your arms, I will spare your life." He paused a beat as his offer of mercy elicited another, more startled murmur. "But I can see into your hearts and if you try to deceive me I will kill you: like them."_

 _The ten prisoners were lined up along the edge of the wall so that they were clearly visible from the Pits. Sam waiting long enough to allow Lilith's troops to identify the officers, then he walked up to the first one. He gripped the demon by zir neck. His heart was pounding and he felt a tightness in his own throat, but he swallowed the flood of emotions. White light shone from zir mouth and eyes. After screaming in agony and convulsing for a moment, zie went limp and zir shell's color became dull. Sam tossed the frail body from the wall and it shattered on the Pit floor._

 _Sam moved down the line systematically killing each prisoner in the same fashion. With each execution he felt a little more sick, but he made a point not to let it show on his face or in his posture. Both audiences whispered with each death, but a few vengeful cheers came up from the Central side when two of the more notorious officers were killed._

 _After throwing the last shell into the Pits, Sam looked out over Lilith's army for a moment to let the situation sink in a bit more. Ripples of confusion, doubt, and outrage spread throughout Lilith's troops. He could see a commotion on the far edge of his view of the Pits. Something was moving forward through the crowd, drawing the attention of nearby demons and causing exclamations to rise from the mob._

 _A man became visible as the focus of attention. His appearance was more human than most. He was large, muscular, and tanned with short black hair. He wore undecorated plate armor and had what looked like a claymore at his side. As he approached, Sam could see that he had a pair of black horns protruding from his forehead that were vaguely camouflaged against his hair._

 _"That's Joseba, one of the knights," Shola whispered from behind Sam for his benefit. "He woke up around the same time as Mir, but went out into the Pits. We haven't been able to keep track of him since then."_

 _One of the higher ranking demons on the Pits side climbed onto a large boulder, then started yelling something to the crowd and pointing at Joseba. The crowd started cheering and chanting something in Abyssal._

 _Sam didn't need to understand the language to know that Lilith's side was rallying behind the presence of a knight. He looked to the reactions of those around him. Crowley and the other allied archdemons were doing an admirable job of hiding their concern, but Mir's behavior was the most interesting._

 _Mir looked to a point on the wall that was completely void of anything interesting for several seconds, then he turned to look at Sam. The mute knight's lipless smile had returned. He took a step forward to get a better view of Joseba._

 _Joseba continued walking through the crowd, but redirected his course to join the officer that had started the chanting. The officer started yelling angrily up at Sam's group, having been given a new sense of enthusiasm by the knight's presence. Joseba climbed onto the large boulder with the officer._

 _In a single flash of motion, Joseba drew his claymore and decapitated the officer. The chanting stopped immediately. Sam had to stop himself from letting his jaw drop in surprise. Several cries broke out and the demons around Joseba started scrambling up the rock to attack him. The knight swung the claymore again, killing five demons in a single stroke, then the mob moved in to swarm him. Sam felt the gentlest gust of air as some unseen entity moved by him quickly. It went straight over the edge of the wall and had come from... the area Mir had been staring a few seconds earlier._

 _"Should I be worried?" Sam asked Mir, who slowly shook his head in return._

 _Joseba was the center of his own battle, but a strange path was being cut through the crowd toward him. Sam couldn't see exactly what was causing the disruption, but several demons fell dead in its wake. Joseba was pulled under the surface of the mob for a moment as the unseen entity moved to reach him. With a flicker, the new player became visible._

 _Her movements were inhuman as she sliced with blades that seemed to line her forearms and shins. The fighting style was reminiscent of Muay Thai and using tonfas. Her form was one of the least human Sam had seen since arriving in Hell. She looked more like a three-dimensional shadow than anything else._

 _Almost like a liquid, she slipped between demons, dropping them as she moved closer to Joseba. She began thinning the herd around him. After shaking off three demons, he joined her in slowly moving toward the wall._

 _Mir turned from the show to face Sam. The knight locked eyes with him, then tilted own his head toward a nearby gate tower. Mir began walking to the tower without waiting to see what Sam would do. Sam hurried to follow him._

 _They descended the tower's staircase and approached the large iron gate. Twenty demons were guarding the gate on the Central side. The guards looked at Mir and Sam, uncertain of what was happening. Shola ran up behind them, having noticed that Sam had slipped away during the excitement._

 _"What are you doing?" She asked._

 _"Not really sure yet," Sam replied. When Mir raised his maul into a fighting stance and began walking towards the gate, Sam said, "Fuck. He's serious— Shola, tell them to let him out."_

 _Shola hesitated only for a second before yelling orders at the guards. The guards looked between each other before looking to Sam. He didn't care if they didn't understand his words; he started shouting at them to raise the gate. The demons took the hint and began lifting the gate and moving into defensible positions. When the gate was raised, they got their first ground-level view of the fight._

 _There was a massive brawl located roughly eighty feet in front of the gate that was centered on Joseba and the female demon. To Sam's surprise, Mir continued to almost stroll, instead of opting to run, into battle. A few of Lilith's demons realized the gate was open and tried to rush in. Mir calmly swung his maul, shattering shells with near indifference. The Central guards hurried to defend against any incoming attackers. Just before Mir reached the edge of the mob, he turned back to look at Sam expectantly. The knight contemplated something for a moment before turning to join the fight. Based on the hilt and handle sticking out of Mir's back, he'd been stabbed while eyeing Sam._

 _He could see that Joseba and the female demon were almost halfway through the mob, but they'd been slowed down by some sort of reinforcements. Mir was helping clear the way for them, but he lacked a certain speed that was helpful when so overwhelmingly outnumbered. Against his better judgment, Sam ran through the gate._

* * *

 _Sam had never actually been on a battlefield before. There was a seemingly endless threat before him, but he couldn't just leave the knights out there. Despite the fact that they were stronger than normal demons, the three of them being outnumbered so overwhelmingly leveled the contest. In the fight before him, he could see that abstract knowledge incarnate._

 _He knew that he was more powerful than a normal demon, but when stacked up against a horde…. His job was to be a figurehead, not to fight the actual war. They hadn't tested his combat abilities in Hell or his vulnerability. Unlike everyone else there, he was still alive and could potentially be killed by mundane injury. In Hell, with the exception of by special weapons, Sam or a knight, it was incredibly difficult to kill demons. So he didn't venture too far into the fray, but enough that he could assist Mir, who had become engulfed._

 _With a thrust of his hand, Sam telekinetically threw five demons off of Mir. To his surprise, he couldn't see where they landed, though it must've been at least fifty feet away. He continued throwing demons out of the way, trying to help clear a path. But now that he was out on the field, he could see why the reinforcements were proving such a nuisance._

 _Five massive, taloned and fanged Torquean demons had moved up from the reserves to assist in subduing the knights. Joseba attempted to kill one, but he was visibly injured and was having to make an effort just to continue moving. The female demon dropped one of the Torquean without much difficulty, but she was hindered by continuing to assist Joseba. Mir shattered another Torquean, but became bogged down by the lesser demons again quickly._

 _One of the Torquean moved to bring down a sickle on Joseba's head, but Sam grabbed her. He used his powers to lift the powerful demon into the air and crushed her, which drew a lot of unwanted attention to him. The two remaining Torquean and a group of at least a dozen demons moved to rush Sam._  
 _Instinctively, Sam held up his hands to them. Brilliant light shone out before him. Screams and hissing swelled up from the mob. He couldn't tell if the hissing was an expression of anger or the sound of burning flesh until he smelled scorched skin and brimstone. He lowered his hands to see that the group that had been charging him was nothing more than ash._

 _The nearby demons stopped mid-frenzy. Several of Joseba's attackers gave up their assault and hurried backward into the crowd. The shadowy female demon finished off the remaining few who continued to harass Joseba, while Mir killed the last demon he was fighting._

 _Sam looked around and realize that he and the knights were being given a wide berth. Lilith's troops didn't even attempt to charge the still-open gate into Central District. The immediate army was suppressed with a seething tension. They had adopted a defensive posture and were waiting to see what Sam and the three knights would do._

 _But with Joseba and Mir both injured, the priority was to safely retreat back into Central. The female demon helped Joseba through the gates while Sam and Mir covered them, but no attacks came. Once the four of them were through, the iron gate was lowered._

 _Sam looked at the scene on the Central side of the gate. All of Lilith's troops that had rushed the gate had been subdued. Beyond the guards, who were binding their prisoners, was a crowd of Central demons. There were a few hundred who'd risked watching the fight from ground level and eyed Sam with curious wonder. Crowley stood next to Shola on the front edge of the audience with a small smile that helplessly formed on his face._

 _The female demon lifted Joseba's arm off of her shoulders and let him fall onto the ground. The injured knight looked up at her with a near-smile of gratitude. She softly kicked his ribs where a chunk had been taken out of both his armor and him. He cringed and grinned at her while clutching his damaged chest._

 _"Tora?" Crowley asked the shadowy demon, who nodded toward him and responded with something in Abyssal. Crowley looked to Sam. "I've always been curious to meet the Knight of Shadows. She's a hard one to coax out of hiding."_

 _Tora offered Joseba a hand up and Sam was briefly surprised when her slender form was able to aid the much larger, armor-clad man so easily. While helping him up, she asked Joseba something in Abyssal. He smiled, gripped his claymore, then replied to her._

 _"She asked what he was doing among Lilith's army," Shola translated for Sam. "He said that he was just looking for his sword."_


	42. In the Blood

"So... Sam was in Hell—" Dean began.

"Only part-time—he was around a lot," Kaylee said a little defensively. "He was a good dad. Always made time for the family, even if things were difficult."

That was some small level of comfort. Sammy wasn't trapped in the Pit the whole time and he seemed to have enough freedom that his daughter hadn't grown up alienated. As someone whose dad had been somewhat absentee, Dean was sensitive to the impact that that could have on a person. He supposed that Sam must've also been aware of that throughout Kaylee's upbringing and probably made a concerted effort to compensate for whatever time away was necessary.

"And what happened to me?" Dean asked.

With a slightly better picture of Sam's starting place on the board, Dean thought of himself. Things had been dire when he'd left 2009 and trying to imagine where his life would take him was difficult at best. Even if Sam made a deal that helped protect or hide him from angels, what did he do going forward? Was hunting even a viable option? He wasn't sure what the state of the hunting community would've been. Apparently a number of hunters had been killed along with Ruby's witches. Were there any remnants of the network left intact and if so, would any of them still be willing to work with him or Bobby once they'd found out about the whole mess with Sam?

"You started hunting with Cas," Tom explained.

Dean raised an eyebrow at the idea. "Hunting with an angel?"

"Angels make good allies in a fight."

"I'll bet," Dean said as he looked at Dylaniel, then went to rub the back of his neck, but the chain on his manacles stopped too short. In the shock of finding out about the apocalypse, Sam, and Hell, he'd almost forgotten about his unpleasant surrounding. He looked at his three friendly captors and rattled his chains. "Since you know I'm not a spy or something, can we continue this little chat with all of us outside a cage?"

Tom took a step toward the cage door, but stopped for a moment reconsidering it. He glanced at Kaylee and Dylaniel with an expression of uncertainty. Dylaniel hadn't moved any more than flicking his eyes to Kaylee. She shifted her weight, hands resting on her hips and stared at Dean thoughtfully.

"Here's the thing," she started in an ominous manner. "I don't know you, but I do know my uncle and he can be a stubborn son of a bitch."

Dean leaned his head forward in disbelief at the direction their conversation was going. He'd thought that with him being something like Kaylee's uncle, things were good, but maybe they weren't. His mouth opened and closed a couple times, trying to figure out if he should beg or argue.

She didn't give him the chance before continuing her warning. "You're in our time and our base, and I'm not going to have you running around fucking up all our hard work."

"Fucking up—you're going to leave me here?!"

"No, but we're gonna set some ground rules before you get the cuffs off." Kaylee turned to Dylaniel. "Call for Salviel."

Dylaniel didn't move, but instead closed his eyes. A moment later Dean heard the flapping of wings and suddenly another woman was standing next to Dylaniel.

She looked Hispanic, in her late thirties or early forties, with black hair in a pixie cut. A scar trailed from the bottom of her left ear across her neck down to her right clavicle. She was wearing lightly armored clothing that was similar to Dylaniel's except that her pants were brown and the jacket was black without the strange extra panel of fabric on the back. Her hips carried dual angel-blade holsters. She stared at Dean for a moment before nodding in greeting to the others.

"I imagine you've heard the rumors about him?" Kaylee asked the new arrival.

"Yes, ma'am. They're saying that a person matching the commander's description was found. I see that's true."

Dean's ears perked up at her mention of 'commander.' He made a mental note of that.

"Yes, we have a little case of angelic time travel," Kaylee confirmed. "He's from the past, so you can see the importance of keeping him in one piece. I'm assigning you to guard him for the duration of his stay. He's not to leave your sight unless one of the three of us tells you otherwise. You will assist him with whatever he needs—within your judgement. Make sure he follows the rules."

"Understood," Salviel replied, then looked over at Dean with skeptical curiosity.

Kaylee turned back to Dean and began explaining the terms of his release. "Rule number one: don't try to sneak away because Salviel's one of the best we have at tracking and I'm perfectly fine with her dragging you back with both legs broken if it means keeping you alive." Her tone was slightly condescending and he wanted to be entirely offended, yet a whisper of doubt told him that he might've otherwise tried to slip away for a bit out of pure defiance. "We're currently located on a secure base, but a forty-five-minute walk in any direction will put you considerable danger. The last thing any of us need is you getting captured."

"Captured?" he asked as he realized that they were in a war zone and he looked like one of the commanders for this side. That could be an issue.

"By agents of Heaven. Finding you would be one of their top priorities if they knew you were here. They'll want you alive, but they'd settle for you dead."

"Top priorities?" Dean's stomach dropped. Back before sending him to the future, Castiel had theorized that the further ahead he traveled the less Heaven would be interesting in him. "What's Heaven got against me?"

"A lot," Kaylee replied bluntly, then only slightly elaborated, "Uncle Dean is number one on Michael's shit list, which makes you number one-and-a-half."

"Michael? Like Archangel Michael?" Dean rolled his eyes and threw his hand up in exasperation—or at least as far as he could while in the manacles.

"Yeah, that one—"

"Also, Lucifer's side'll absolutely kill you, but not before they destroy your soul. Can't have you getting into Heaven," Tom added in an attempt to be helpful.

Dean buried his face in his palms. Somehow he'd managed to truly piss off some big bads—granted if he was some higher up in the whole Earth army group, then maybe that made sense. Though being number one on an archangel's shit list sounded like quite the feat.

"Hey, Dyl, do we have anyone that still has ears on angel radio?" Kaylee asked.

"There are four recruits that are recent enough to try," Dylaniel replied. "I can have them monitor for any news about him. If anything breaks, we can pull security from one of the quieter bases to reinforce our defenses or we can take him to the bunker."

"Thanks." Kaylee nodded, then speculated, "If he's already on pirate radio there's a good chance it'll slip out."

"Talial might be able to contain it, but we'll listen just in case," Dylaniel assured her.

Dean was distracted by imagining the ways he could've managed to piss off two different archangels, when he was drawn back by the mention of pirates. "Pirate radio? You guys have pirates now?"

"'Pirate radio' means an illegal radio broadcast," Tom clarified. "Angels can communicate telepathically and we call the frequencies that Heaven broadcasts on 'angel radio.' So when our angels started using their own frequency, they named it 'pirate radio.'"

"Fallen angels can sometimes still hear angel radio for several months after they've fallen," Dylaniel added. "Heaven has a difficult time removing an angel from their system without the angel being in Heaven."

"Newly fallen angels are given a little extra protection—kept away from the general population for awhile," Kaylee explained. "It's both to protect them from Heaven trying to pick them off on the battlefield, and because falling can be a pretty big shock to them. The non-combat angels can be confused and really naive for awhile— Actually, I've got rule number two." She turned to address Salviel. "Don't let him fuck anyone."

"Excuse me?" Dean asked.

"There might be a few people that would be interested, especially the angels—possibly angels that have no idea what they'd be doing."

Her comments made him wonder if angels were actually capable of giving informed consent about things like sex. That was a nightmare he had zero interest in. He made a mental note that angels were categorically off-limits.

She continued, "I don't want you knocking any of my people up or causing similar drama. Also, letting someone have sex with you feels like an invasion of my uncle's privacy."

"But it's my privates, not his."

He understood that the angels were off the table and honestly the idea of getting laid while on the mission hadn't even crossed his mind until then, but having someone be instructed to prevent the possibility was kind of offensive. He was an adult and if the option to have a one-night-stand presented itself, it was his right to decide whether or not to enjoy it.

"Yeah well, he doesn't fuck around and you're not showing the masses what they're missing. That's a condition of you getting out of the cage. Your choice." She stared him down and none of the others seemed to be interested in pleading his case.

Worse than the mere hypothetical cockblock was the realization that his comfort was being subordinated to the other Dean. It made sense in a way; he was the outsider, but adhering to the rules in general wasn't the same as being expected to emulate another person's behavior.

None of these people knew him. They knew some later Mirror-Mirror version of him. Kaylee probably wouldn't have any memories earlier that a few years old, which was several years after his time. Judging by his silver hairs, Tom was older than her, but probably not by much. Yet he'd never met Tom and wasn't entirely sure how much he'd interacted with the other Dean. The angels didn't count either because no matter how old they were, he'd only ever interacted with Castiel before traveling to 2039.

"Fine."

* * *

"Why am I so popular with the angels?" Dean asked as Tom removed his manacles. Michael hated him with some sort of fiery passion, and some of the fallen angels apparently would be interested in fucking him. Surely something had earned him such intense reactions from the winged community.

"It's a little complicated, but it generally comes down to Dean having a better rapport with the fallen angels than most other humans," Tom started to answer, then smiled at some thought or memory and looked at Dylaniel, who pursed his lips slightly.

"It's hard for me to picture myself getting along real well with angels. Two-thirds of the ones I've met have been dicks—possibly three-thirds," Dean replied. He couldn't quite peg Castiel. After remembering that he'd met more than three angels he looked over at Salviel and Dylaniel. "No offense."

Salviel and Dylaniel glanced at each other, but neither said anything. Kaylee chuckled a bit and shook her head at the comment.

"Well, you didn't exactly get by on your charming personality alone," Kaylee clarified. "It helps that you're special."

"The Righteous Man?" Dean asked, hoping to finally get some answers. He'd been wondering for several days what that whole 'Righteous Man' thing was about. It hadn't occurred to him that he might be able to find information about it in the future, but then again he wasn't expecting to be in a situation where he was allied with angels. Castiel hadn't known the significance behind the title, but he'd just been one angel at the beginning of something very big.

"Kinda, but that's skipping ahead a bit," Kaylee said. "I get the feeling we're gonna need to take this step-by-step with you."

"No offense." Tom unconsciously mimicked Dean, then offered him a hand up from the concrete floor, which he accepted. Dean dismissed the potential insult with a shrug as he stretched and cracked his back.

"Have you heard of angelic vessels?" Kaylee asked.

"You mean an angel's meatsuit?" Dean asked as he followed Tom out of the cage.

"Don't call them that," Salviel said with a small scowl of disapproval.

Dean looked at her a little confused by her statement, but Kaylee continued talking.

"Vessels," Kaylee corrected. "But a similar concept. Unlike demons, angels can't just possess someone—"

"Yeah," Dean replied, grateful that he knew something about what was being discussed. He recalled Castiel asking Sam if he'd ever heard any voices before blacking out. "Castiel—Cas said that angels need permission first."

"More than that, angels need compatible vessels," Dylaniel explained. "The vessels need to carry a trace amount of their angel's grace in order to fully integrate with their angel. Without full integration, both the vessel and the angel are weakened, so angels try to avoid it. Archangels can't even do it without destroying the incompatible vessel immediately."

"Grace travels through bloodlines, so you get situations where a single angel has one or more families that they can possess," Kaylee added.

"The grace that Cas found in Kaylee and Sam…." Dean thought back to the grace that had been found in baby Kaylee. They had figured that her grace had come from Sam, who may have inherited it himself.

"Your dad's family carries Michael's grace."

"Mich—Archangel Michael— I'm his vessel?" Dean reminded himself that in this time there was also the other Dean, Sam, and Kaylee. "I'm one of Michael's vessels, along with Sam and Kaylee?"

"You are, but dad and I…." Kaylee rocked on her heels and gave an unsettling shrug. "We're a different story."

* * *

 _September 19, 2012_

 _"We're going to Santa Fe."_

 _"What's in Santa Fe?" Cas asked as he looked up from his paperback copy of_ Shards of Honor _._

 _"Someone I really want to kill," Dean replied._

 _He threw the newspaper onto the motel bed next to where Cas was sitting. The front page story was about a jewelry heist at store called Johnson's Family Antiques that was foiled when the burglar accidentally shot himself in the crotch. The headline read 'Burglar lost johnson, family jewels.' There was a large color photo of the store and a crowd looking on as the burglar was being wheeled out on a stretcher. In the middle of the crowd in the photograph stood a man with a broad grin on his face. It was the trickster that had killed Dean over a hundred times a few years earlier. The experience had traumatized Sam, and Dean wanted some payback._

 _He called Sam's direct line. The phone clicked and hissed for a moment, indicating to Dean that the call was being rerouted to Hell. The line would take a few seconds to adjust for the time difference, but he imagined Sam always got the worst side of the deal. He probably had to wait an extra several minutes between Dean's sentences to have the speech converted up x120 speed. Fuck—Sammy probably treated every interdimensional phone call as playing pen pals._

 _"Hey, Ishmael. Get your ass to Santa Fe. I found Moby Dickhead," Dean said once the line became clear._

 _"Dean, what the hell are you talking about?" Sam asked._

 _"The trickster, he's in Santa Fe. He got photographed and I spotted him in the newspaper."_

 _"It's a trap." Sam's tone was blunt. In the background Dean could hear some shuffling of papers. Sam usually had a little negativity during or shortly after working, so Dean didn't take the objection as a full-on rejection._

 _"There's been all sorts of weird stuff going on in that area and this is the first spotting. He could've just slipped up. The guy makes mistakes."_

 _"We're being hunted by angels, demons, and hunters," Sam pointed out. "You really think that there's going to be something lining up for us like this that's not a trap?"_

 _"He's a trickster. That's polytheistic pagan territory. He's not some angel or demon or hunter. Why would he work with them?" Dean countered. When Sam didn't have a good counter argument, he continued, "Come on, it'll be fun. You're like a wizard. We've got Cas—hell, you can even bring one of those knights if Crowley won't let you out to play without a chaperone."_

 _After a few seconds, Sam said, "This is a bad idea."_

 _"That's not a no," Dean replied as a little smile started forming on his face._

 _"You're set on doing this, aren't you?"_

 _"100%"_

 _"Put me on speakerphone." Sam waited. Dean waved over Cas, then switched the output to the speaker. "I'm bringing Tora. We find him, kill him, then we're gone. Cas, if things go wrong we'll hop around and meet back at camp. Okay?"_

 _"Do you really have to bring Tora? Can't you bring the one that doesn't talk?" Dean's chipper mood dimmed slightly at the idea of spending time with her. She didn't like him. She didn't seem to like anyone other than Sam and even that seemed like a stretch._

 _"She's the best I've got at dealing with illusions and magic. I'll ask her to not talk as much around you if you want," Sam suggested as a compromise._

 _"Just teach her English," Dean told Sam for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Teach all of your knights English. As is they're a pain in the ass to be around."_

 _"I'm going to need some time to wrap things up down here, then I'll be ready…" Dean could hear Sam assessing some small mountain of work "...in maybe ten minutes your time. Where do you want to meet?"_

 _"There's an IHOP at the corner of Richards and Certillos," Dean replied, earning a chuckle from Sam._

 _"We're seriously going to have our pre-hunt tactical meeting in a pancake house?"_

 _"You caught him eating pancakes once before. Maybe we'll get lucky?" Dean grinned at his quick justification._

 _"Dean has also been wanting pancakes for two days," Cas added, deflating Dean slightly. He threw Cas a look of mock betrayal, which caused Cas to shrug._

 _"That doesn't make it any less of a good idea," Dean defended._

 _"See you guys in ten."_


	43. Not a Laughing Matter

_Dean and Cas left their belongings at their Cincinnati motel room except for three angel blades. Cas teleported them to an alley about a block from the Santa Fe pancake house. After grabbing a booth, Dean recapped his previous encounters with the trickster for Cas._

 _He wasn't particularly concerned with the trickster spotting them. The trickster's modus operandi was consistent with not being able to pass up the easy target of Dean or Sam. Either intentionally or accidentally one of them would probably catch his attention, so it might as while be in the form of bait. When it came down to it, the fight would probably be telegraphed in advance. The card up their sleeve, though, was that they were collectively much more powerful than the last time the trickster saw them._

 _After a few minutes, Sam walked in. He was wearing his casual topside clothes of blue jeans and plaid. A woman that appeared to be in her mid-twenties and of Native American descent followed him in. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore hot pink and yellow polka dot stockings under cutoff jeans shorts, and a turquoise The Go! Team hoodie. Her exterior was entirely carefree, but by the way she was casing the restaurant Dean knew it was Tora._

 _"Real subtle. Of all the women in town, she had to grab a powerpuff girl," Dean commented._

 _Sam shrugged as he slid into the booth and said, "Whatever. I don't tell her how to do her job."_

 _Tora sat down next to Sam in the booth, separating him from the aisle._

 _"Yeah, you do." Dean gestured at Tora, earning him a glare from her. "You're her boss."_

 _"I tell her what to do," Sam corrected. "She knows best how to get it done. If she thinks that body will work well, then that's up to her."_

 _"It's got a soul in it, doesn't it?"_

 _Sam pursed his lips slightly at Dean's question and gave a small, helpless shrug. "Soulless bodies in decent shape are hard to find. If you want help on short notice, this is what we have to deal with. She knows to go easy on it."_

 _A waiter stopped by their table just long enough to drop off menus for the new arrivals. Sam picked up one of the menus and tapped it on the table a few times._

 _"Are we actually getting food?" he asked before opening the menu. "Not that I'm complaining. I just wasn't expecting to eat so soon."_

 _"Never hunt on an empty stomach." Dean smiled. "Unless it's ghouls—maybe skip lunch then."_

 _"Is she going to eat too?" Cas asked. He had contemplated skipping his custom of eating with others while at restaurants, but thought it might seem odd so close to breakfast time while at a pancake house. Though, he didn't know if Tora also refraining from eating would make him less or more conspicuous._

 _Tora was diligently looking around the restaurant and hadn't touched the menu, not that it would've done her much good beyond the few pictures. Sam leaned closer to her and whispered some Abyssal to her. He was hoping to spare Dean the uncomfortable feeling the language produced in humans, but Dean still shuddered slightly. She thought for a moment, then nodded. Her hand waved at the menu with indifference._

 _"Yeah. She'll eat, but she doesn't care what. She hasn't been topside for a while, so anything'll probably be a treat."_

 _Dean chuckled at Sam's answer. When he saw everyone looking at him confused about what was funny, he smiled. "Sorry, just the idea of a knight of Hell getting a treat. I pictured a cartoon demon with an oversized lollipop."_

 _Sam and Cas smiled, but didn't seem as amused as Dean would've liked. Unseen under the table, Cas patted Dean's knee reassuringly. Tora looked at Dean suspiciously, but otherwise didn't react._

 _"Speaking of sweets, any knocked-over candy shops or other leads?" Sam asked._

 _"Not yet, but there's a cupcake baking competition downtown starting in an hour," Dean said with an innocent grin._

 _Sam frowned back at him. "Trap. I'm calling it right now: trap."_

 _"Yeah, but it's one of his traps. They're like stories you'll tell the kids some day."_

 _"You getting killed in front of me hundreds of times was fucking hilarious." There was a little more moodiness in Sam's voice than Dean had expected._

 _"I know you're still pissed at the guy. That's why we're here." Dean's smile faded in concern. "You need to loosen up. Is... work getting to you?"_

 _Sam sighed, then leaned back in the booth slightly. He chewed his lip a little while trying to decide how much to share. Dean rarely asked him about 'work' because it was something they could almost never see eye-to-eye on. Yet Dean was sympathetic to his struggle, even if Sam seemed to be bearing it fairly well most days. So on the unusual day when Sam was clearly agitated, Dean would make the goodwill gesture of at least asking._

 _"Something's wrong with our inventory—or worse: the numbers are right. You'd think that they closed the pearly gates with the uptick we've been seeing lately." Sam rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to relieve some stress. "I mean, like, all dogs aren't going to heaven."_

 _"Heaven never accepted canines," Cas said in confusion._

 _"It's a movie reference, babe," Dean said as he waved his menu impatiently trying to signal their waiter._

 _"Do canines go to Hell?" Cas asked Sam in legitimate curiosity._

 _"Um... no? We don't really have animals." Sam furrowed his brow, then leaned over and whispered to Tora again._

 _The waiter approached their table, but looked faint as soon as he was in the area of effect of the Hellish tongue, and hurried away without stopping to get their order. Dean watched the waiter retreat as Tora whispered something back to Sam._

 _"We've got hounds and imps, but we think they're both native," Sam elaborated for Cas, then noticed Dean's irritated expression. "What?"_

 _Dean bounced his knee in annoyance, then collected all the menus. "Alright, I'm gonna go chase down the waiter and put in our order because this wait is un-fucking-bearable. Cas, you still want french toast?"_

 _"I think so," the angel replied._

 _"Pancake is in the name of the restaurant—throwing that out there," Dean reminded him while resisting the mild exasperation he was experiencing._

 _"I appreciate that, but I'm curious what makes the toast French."_

 _"I don't know if french toast is actually—" Sam started, but Dean cut him off._

 _"Look it up on your phone while I'm ordering. Let me guess." Dean put two fingers to his forehead feigning a psychic reading. "Egg white garden omelette."_

 _"And a cup of coffee," Sam added, a little peeved at being so predictable._

 _"Everyone's getting coffee. I don't care if half of us don't sleep, caffeine all around. As for Tora, any idea what I should order for her to eat?"_

 _"Anything," Sam answered, releasing Dean to pursue their waiter; then he turned to ask Cas, "He's pretty excited about killing the trickster, isn't he?"_

 _"The way everything has been going lately, Dean needs an old-fashioned hunt," Cas speculated. "Nearly a quarter of our cases in the last few months were human—and those were just the ones we initially mistook for supernatural creatures."_

 _"I heard about the bombing at the World Series and the subway shootings along the east coast. Things are getting bad up here, aren't they?"_

 _Cas glanced nervously at Dean, who was still talking with the waiter across the restaurant, then asked, "This escalation, is it your people?"_

 _"No, not on that kind of scale." Sam shook his head. "We're still going through reconstruction in the Pits. There's a token level of disruption topside, to help us maintain our presence, but we just don't have the manpower to spare on anything more than that right now."_

 _"Do you think they're Lilith's people?"_

 _"Maybe, but I'm not sure where she'd get the extra manpower either. She's also pretty immobilized by our grappling." Sam leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Have you heard anything from your contacts in Heaven? We're trying to keep up the show and our defenses are mostly intact, but I'm not sure we could take a hard hit right now. If you catch wind of anything…."_

 _"Right now I believe that a direct assault on Hell is not a priority of Heaven, but I will let you know if I hear anything."_

 _"Thanks Cas."_

* * *

 _Unsurprisingly, there was a security checkpoint at the entrance to the convention center. Rather than pull some sleight of hand getting their weapons through, they opted to just teleport inside. Despite the rigorous check getting inside, there were still a considerable number of security guards patrolling for a baking competition. Though Dean supposed that nowadays a little extra security at large gathering seemed like a fair policy decision._

 _Dean put his hands in his jacket pockets and held them closer to his torso until they could find a quiet place to prepare. They turned into an alcove that contained a bank of dusty pay phones. He opened his jacket and pulled out one of the two angel blades he wore in a custom shoulder holster._

 _"You sure the angel blades will work on a trickster?" Sam asked._

 _"They've worked on everything else and they're a lot easier to hide than those big blood-covered spikes," Dean pointed out, then dangled the spare blade in front of Tora. "Now remember: play nice."_

 _She took the blade, twirled it a few times, then looked at Sam. One corner of his mouth turned downward and he shook his head at her. She pointed at Dean, then stabbed the wall next to her without taking her gaze off of him. The tip of her blade was embedded directly between the eyes of a man on an advertising poster._

 _"Just because she can't kill you doesn't mean you should make her want to," Cas warned._

 _"Come on. She's kinda a bitch and you know it," Dean said in his defense._

 _"You're kinda a jerk," Sam countered. Dean looked to Cas for back up, but the angel was intently without comment. "Anyway, the trickster's somewhere around here, so the last thing you need to be doing is setting yourself up for some ironic justice."_

 _"Fine," Dean conceded the point, then got down to business. "If we see anything suspicious, we try to casually separate it from the civilians before we start poking it with pointy sticks. The last thing we need is for a dozen mall cops to be taken out in a blaze of glory because our cover's blown and Tora ends up stab-happy."_

 _"She knows to not use lethal force on civilians. Anyway, it's not like we're going to get the drop on this guy, so we better be ready for it to go sideways." Sam raked his fingers through his hair, then spoke to the ceiling. "Hey trickster, if you're watching us can you remind us that I get an 'I told you so' when you eventually screw us over?"_

 _"Cute," Dean muttered._

 _"Oh, you'll see."_

* * *

 _They walked through the aisles of the exhibition hall looking for anything out of the ordinary. Sam, Dean, and Cas looked for bizarre situations, though it was made difficult by the absurd surroundings. There were stages with demonstrations, dozens of competitors' stations, advertising stands, mascots, and overly enthusiastic baking fans. The entire setting was cheerful chaos._

 _While the guys were looking for the trickster, Tora was only focused on possible threats. When they reached an area that contained several workstations with large chef's knives, she placed a hand on Sam's arm. He stopped to look at her, but Dean kept walking. Once Dean was positioned to be walking into danger first, she shook her head and waved at Sam to dismiss his attention._

 _Despite the potential for danger, Dean was so delighted by the outing that he had a spring in his step. He was on a hunt with both Cas and Sam, and he got to eat cupcakes while at it. If he ever got snagged by a djinn again, he was pretty sure his wish would be some variation on that day._

 _After popping a miniature red velvet cupcake in his mouth, he turned around to see that Cas and Sam were both gone. Tora was standing about ten feet behind him frantically looking around. She rush forward to Dean and said something in Abyssal. He cringed at her words, but she mercifully stopped talking. In a surprisingly desperate attempt at communicating she said something in what sounded like Japanese._

 _"I don't understand you," he said, but she just shook her head at his indecipherable statement. She cursed, looked around, cursed again, then turned her eyes black. Dean thought of the hall full of civilians and potential witnesses._

 _He grabbed her upper left arm from behind and immediately knew it had been a mistake. She spun around in a blur of movement that he barely had time to register. For a moment he was worried that she had mistaken him for an attacker and would stab him. But he quickly realized she was just angry at him when he saw it was the butt of the angel blade coming at his face. He threw up his hands in forfeit and the slim hope of blocking the hit, but she somehow stopped herself just short of making contact. She was scowling so hard that he could see one of her eyelids twitching. He pointed at her eyes, then the nearby civilians._

 _"You can't go walking around here with your eyes black," he whispered to her even though she couldn't tell what he was saying. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance, then disappeared._

 _Dean imagined her teleporting back to Hell to get reinforcements. That was just what he needed on a stealthy little hunt: the armies of Hell bearing down on a county-league baking competition looking for their missing king—not that it was stealthy anymore. The trickster knew they were there and he had Cas and Sam…. Maybe letting a hundred demons turn the place inside out wasn't the worst idea._

 _But just as Dean was mentally preparing himself for the demonic horde, he bumped into something that he couldn't see. He took a hard jab to the stomach that knocked the wind out of him followed by a huff. Tora had just turned herself invisible. Sam had said she was the illusion expert, but Dean had assumed the expertise was more academic._

 _The merits of her new, subtle approach were dampened though when Dean realized that he'd completely lost track of her. He was alone in the trickster's trap and he was arguably the least capable at fighting him. Unfortunately, with no one left to consult, Dean could only think to play along and continue the hunt. Eventually the trickster would bring him into the game in a more active way._

 _He turned a corner and began walking down a corridor of stalls. After a few minutes he realized that with every step he took, the exhibition hall became quieter. When he looked around more diligently he noticed that there were fewer and fewer civilians nearby. Soon he couldn't see another person at all. An unnerving silence filled the hall and he readied himself for the shit to hit the fan._

 _The faint sound of ticking began to emanate from one of the stages. Even in spite of the otherwise silence, it seemed to spread unnaturally through the hall. His instincts told him to head away from the ominous sound, but he needed to find Cas and Sam. With his angel blade at the ready, he followed the ticking. It came from a stage that was entirely bare except for a small table with an old-fashioned wind-up kitchen timer._

 _He approached the timer cautiously, then saw that it only had two seconds on it. As far as he could tell there wasn't any bomb attached to the timer, but it still made his heart skip a beat. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to dive for cover or break the damn thing. A quick look around gave no clues as to what he was supposed to do. Turning back to the timer, it struck zero and buzzed._

 _Dean cringed as he waited for whatever was supposed to happen, but nothing came. With an attempt at a calming breath, he turned to see the trickster standing on the far end of the stage from him._

 _"No dynamite or cream pies? No joke? No fucking lesson to be learned?" Dean asked while trembling slightly from adrenaline and anger._

 _"You want a lesson? How about 'Don't go walking into traps'?" The trickster rolled his eyes at Dean, then snapped his fingers._

 _The table disappeared, replaced by Sam and Cas. Sam was lying unconscious on the floor, but otherwise looked fine. Beside him sat a bound and gagged Cas, who struggled against his bonds. Dean took in the fact that Cas was unable to teleport out of his bindings, something that he'd never seen before. The subtle display of power made Dean's stomach drop, but he tried not to show the worry on his face._

 _"Well, I'm glad you're all finally here. We need to have a little talk." The trickster's tone was slightly annoyed, but oddly soft…. He wasn't being his normal snarky self and that was more than a little unnerving._

 _"I don't have anything to say to you," Dean said as he gripped his angel blade._

 _The trickster held up his hands to symbolize non-hostility, then gestured to Sam. "Listen, I'm sorry I had to knock out Sleeping Beauty, but I couldn't risk him shooting first."_

 _"And why'd you take Cas?"_

 _"Mixed bag. Partially to take the angel out of the equation and partially to see what you'd do with just the demon. I'm not gonna lie. I thought about having some fun with you—maybe taking off that anti-possession ink of yours—but I promised myself I wouldn't mess with you guys too much, even the knight…. Speaking of which…." The trickster looked around the room for a moment, then shrugged. "Anyway, I'm serious when I say that we need to talk. No tricks, just information."_

 _"Bullshit."_

 _"I don't want to be in this situation any more than you do, but I need your help. And you need mine even if you don't realize it yet."_

 _The trickster turned his head toward a sound that Dean didn't catch. Instantaneously, the trickster was several feet to the right of where he'd been standing and Tora was made visible. She had been in mid-jump, with her blade less than a foot from where the trickster had been standing. As soon as she landed, the trickster snapped his fingers and a devil's trap appeared on the floor around her._

 _"I could kill you or turn you all into chinchillas, but I'm not going to," the trickster continued. "Just give me a few minutes and if you still want to take a shot at me—well, I'll be gone before you could even try, but I won't even whammy you on my way out the door."_

 _Dean looked at his three helpless companions, then said, "I'm listening." He eyed the trickster as he knelt down next to Cas. When he saw that his nemesis wasn't trying to stop him, he began cutting Cas free of his bindings._

 _"Let's get Gulliver up first," the trickster suggested. "Sam needs to hear this too."_

* * *

 _It was going to take a minute for Sam to fully recover from being knocked out. The trickster refused to snap him right back to wide awake and insisted that Dean and Cas keep Sam from launching into a fight before he was completely released from the stupor. While Sam was struggling to get himself upright, Cas looked between Dean, who was visibly concerned, and the handicapped Sam. Cas glared at the trickster in relative helpless frustration, but in return the trickster beamed with a strangely proud smile._

 _"Castiel, you really grew up," the trickster observed._

 _"Do I know you?" Cas was wary, but his head tilted, subtly showing his curiosity._

 _"Right—you wouldn't recognize me like this." The trickster seemed almost disappointed at Cas' lack of recognition. "I'll give you three hints: I'm older than you. I'm supposed to be dead. And I play a mean horn."_

 _All the skepticism and anger in Cas' expression faded into shocked confusion. "Gabriel?"_

 _"Good to see you, little brother."_

 _"Brother?" At the word, Dean looked up from helping Sam, who was barely sitting. He had trouble processing anything more than the fact that the trickster was an angel. Instinctively, Dean moved to be between Cas and the possible threat._

 _"Relax, Deano," Gabriel said. "I'm not here to hurt anyone—least of all Castiel. I actually like him."_

 _"Cas, who is this guy?"_

 _"He's Gabriel, the archangel." Cas stepped around Dean, toward his brother. "But you died in the war?"_

 _"Less died, more fled. It was chaos back then; you remember. I just needed to get away and, well…." The archangel's smile turned a bit sad. "You know how it is. You can't go back either, even if they'd take you back. Freedom and emotions…. All the fun bits."_

 _"So, you're a fallen archangel?" Sam asked as he gingerly tried to stand up. "What do you want with us?"_

 _"I want you two idiots to not get caught. Here's your reminder that you get an 'I told you so.'" Gabriel told Sam. "That whole lesson about not walking into traps—I mean it. I know you're chasing payback or a thrill or something—you know what's a safer thrill? Cocaine."_

 _Gabriel looked over at Tora, who had been standing perfectly still with her eyes shut since being trapped. The archangel watched as the trap flickered, then disappeared. He raised his hand to snap his fingers, but hesitated when she didn't attack him right away. She instead looked to Sam, who signaled for her to wait. Gabriel lowered his hand, then turned his attention back to the conversation._

 _"I don't get it. Why do you care about us?" Dean asked._

 _"As is, Michael and Lucifer are on lockdown, but if you two get nabbed it could be a game changer," Gabriel replied._

 _"I get that Sam might be involved with Lucifer's last seal, but how are we keeping Michael on lockdown?"_

 _"That whole last seal mess aside." Gabriel waved his hand to dismiss that entire headache of a topic. "Who do you think Michael and Luci's vessels are?"_

 _"The grace in you both…." Cas was too busy putting the pieces together to finish his sentence._

 _"Ding! Ding! Ding!" Gabriel exclaimed excitedly. "May I present Dean Winchester, the last surviving vessel of the Archangel Michael, Commander of the Heavenly Host, the Sword of Heaven, etcetera." He gestured toward Dean as if he was showing off an item on a late-night infomercial. Then he turned to Sam. "And Sam Winchester, one of... two vessels of the Archangel Lucifer, Master of the Abyss, the First Light, etcetera. You get the gist."_

 _Dean and Sam exchanged looks of concern. For over a year, they had been aware that they were both vessels, but they'd all assumed that they shared the same angel's grace. The idea that it was the grace of two different angels and that the angels were actually archangels was huge news that they weren't sure how to process._

 _"This doesn't make sense," Cas objected to the unpleasant suggestion. "Sam can't be Lucifer's vessel. That entire bloodline was killed after the war. Lucifer's grace didn't survive his imprisonment."_

 _"Well, he made some more. It seems about thirty years ago, one of Luci's groupies managed to have a chat with him. After that, he went around finding kids with the right grace and tried to corrupt it."_

 _"Azazel?" Sam asked weakly._

 _Gabriel's face scrunched up a bit as he tried to recall. "I think that was the name."_

 _"What do you mean 'right grace'?"_

 _"He needed the grace of another archangel—the vessel had to be strong enough to survive the corruption. A lesser vessel wouldn't do. The whole process killed ten of my vessels." Gabriel looked a little sad at the thought. "Eight of Raphael's, and four of Michael's—very distant relatives of yours. Sam here was the only survivor. He's got the fully augmented grace. Luci has a bloodline again."_

 _"So, if Lucifer gets out of his cage he'll try to possess me?" Sam speculated._

 _"You or your kid, with your consent of course."_

 _Sam looked like it was taking all his conviction to not teleport straight home to check on Kaylee, but he managed to conceal his fear after a moment._

 _"And if there's gonna be a showdown, Michael'll be wearing me?" Dean asked, but he already knew the bleak answer. It was the worst thing he could think of, so of course it'd be true._

 _"Now you're getting it." Gabriel clapped his hands together, then pointed to the brothers. "And you guys can't let that happen. If both of you turn meat puppets, the world's gonna burn. So, again, say it with me: don't get caught."_

 _Cas had easily understood the implications of Sam and Dean consenting to being possessed, so he had directed his thoughts to the less obvious. At the lull in the conversation, he turned to Sam with an answer to a question that had been troubling both of them for almost three years._

 _"If you're Lucifer's vessel, then that would explain your light weapon. Vessels are weak reflections of their angel's virtue. Normally that doesn't manifest, but archangel's vessels are considerably more powerful than lesser vessels. It could result in your unusually powerful light weapon. Lucifer was a being of immense power that manipulated light. He was able to smite lesser angels without any effort."_

 _"Yeah. Wielding the First Light sounds dramatic enough," Gabriel agreed with a quick nod. "I didn't get to see many of Luci's vessels before they got wiped out, but throwing around the light rings a bell."_

 _"What about Dean?" Cas asked as he glanced at the hunter._

 _Dean stepped back a little defensively. "What about me?"_

 _"You also have an echo of archangel mojo: Michael's mojo," Gabriel explained. "Traditionally, the Sword of Heaven can bless their weapons. I know, really exciting, but that's what you get for having the most boring archangel."_

 _"Bless weapons?" Dean raised an eyebrow. He was barely on board with the whole angels and Heaven thing, but the idea of getting dealt an ability that was straight out of a Dungeons & Dragons manual made him uncomfortable. Powers and interplanar stuff was Cas and Sam's thing. He was a boots-on-the-Earth kinda guy._

 _"If you do it right, any weapon you use could be as lethal as an angel blade," Gabriel clarified._

 _"I could gank an angel with a gun?" Dean asked with quickly growing enthusiasm._

 _"If you bless it first."_

 _"How do I do that?"_

 _"How should I know?" Gabriel shrugged. "You aren't one of mine."_

 _Dean's excitement was extinguished in an instant. "Well, fucking great. Let me call up Michael and ask him how to kill his cronies."_

 _"We might be able to find some information on it," Cas suggested. "Unlike Lucifer, Michael has a long history of vessels. It's possible we could find one—"_

 _"Oh, that reminds me," Gabriel said, then snapped his fingers._

 _Dean, Cas, and Sam all suddenly clutched their chests and staggered in pain. Tora didn't wait for Sam to give the okay. She lunged at Gabriel, but he disappeared and was replaced by a six-foot-tall plush toy angel. She didn't resist her momentum, but instead swung her blade upward cutting the toy from crotch to top of the head. She rolled as she landed, then sprang up ready to take another swing before the two halves of the toy hit the ground._

 _"Is she trained to go straight for the goods on guys?" Gabriel asked from behind Sam._

 _Her eyes turned black and she disappeared. Gabriel blinked away just before she reappeared, swinging through the space he'd just occupied. A devil's trap appeared on the ground around her, but nearly instantly flickered out like the last one._

 _"Dammit—call her off, Sam. I was helping you guys." The archangel's voice pleaded, but he was nowhere to be seen._

 _Tora blinked to a new location and took another swing, which stopped part way through the stroke with the sound of metal colliding with metal. Then she looked around the room, seemingly searching for him again._

 _"I don't want to hurt her," Gabriel warned._

 _By that time the pain in Dean, Cas, and Sam's chests had dissipated, allowing them to stand up straight again. Sam called to her, which immediately stopped her frenzy. He gestured for her to calm down. She tucked her angel blade back into her hoodie, then moved to stand at attention next to Sam._

 _"What the fuck did you do to us?" Dean asked as he rubbed his ribs._

 _"I engraved a ward against angelic scrying on your ribs. Now you don't need those annoying hex bags," Gabriel said as he reappeared before them. "I took the liberty of amending the engraving a bit to let Castiel and me locate you. Now I don't have to spend a few months rolling out the red carpet next time."_

 _"Next time?"_

 _"Yeah. You chuckleheads are too important to leave alone. I'll be checking in on you every once in a while." Gabriel moved to snap his fingers, but stopped when he saw that Cas had opened his mouth to speak._

 _"Thank you, for helping us."_

 _"I'm not just doing this for you. Like I said, I have a good thing going on here. I have friends—or at least people who don't want to kill me—and a lady—actually, I'm not entirely sure she's a lady…." Dean and Sam exchanged glances. "Anyway, the last war…. Our family was killing itself. I don't want to see that again."_

* * *

"Okay." Dean tried thinking through Kaylee's explanation about his family's vessel thing, but he still didn't feel like he was getting the half of the picture. "So Sam and Kaylee are Lucifer's vessels and I'm Michael's vessel, but how much does that really mean to angels? Why does anyone other than me give a shit if I'm a puppet as long as Michael isn't actually pulling my strings?"

Dean could see people caring that he was Michael's vessel, if there was a chance that he'd say yes to being possessed, but that didn't answer the question of why he was so popular with the fallen angels. It did sort of answer the question of why Michael might be angry with him and singled him out above everyone else. Like Kaylee said, the other Dean was a stubborn son of a bitch and Michael had probably been discovering that over the course of years, if not decades.

"Angels don't treat vessels the way demons treat the bodies they ride," Kaylee explained. "Angels think of vessels differently than other humans. They even treat vessels different depending on the choir of the angel linked to the vessel. It's all very nuanced and sometimes confusing, but they take it very seriously."

"Michael is the most powerful of all the angels, so the Sword of Heaven is generally considered the most powerful of all vessels," Dylaniel added.

"That's debatable," Kaylee countered with a sidelong glance at Dylaniel.

"The Sword of Heaven?" Dean asked.

"You get a ton of fancy titles because you're Michael's vessel. All the archangel vessels have pretentious titles," answered Tom, earning him a smirk from Kaylee.

"Anyway, most angels cling to the chain of command like a security blanket. So from a fallen angel's perspective, with all things being equal, Dean was a more important human than anyone short of a prophet. Michael might've hated his defiance, but any angel who was willing to fall saw him as the most respectible human." Kaylee rocked her head side-to-side, rethinking her choice of words. "Or at least a good place to start.

"Angels would fall and seek him out—not to mention Cas, who was the most famous fallen angel aside from Lucifer, but who was infinitely more likable. The fallen angels admired Cas's independence and Dean's leadership. That made them the semi-official leaders of the fallen angel presence on Earth. Hence the fan club."


	44. Taking a Gamble

Dean rubbed his wrists, which had turned slightly pink and irritated where the manacles had been. He started mentally reviewing all the new information that he'd learned and was trying to figure out what to ask next while the others patiently watched him process the information.

Sam's involvement with Hell was obviously huge on a personal level, but the development with the fallen angels seemed to be pretty important too. After all, he'd seen more angels than non-angels since he'd arrived in 2039. He was debating how to prioritize his line of questioning when the chorus from Long Hard Road Out of Hell interrupted his train of thought. Kaylee pulled a cell phone from her jacket pocket.

"Dean, you might want to cover your ears," Tom suggested before plugging his own.

Kaylee answered the call and began carrying on a conversation in Abyssal. It only took a word before Dean pressed his hands to his ears, which helped a little. Kaylee mouthed 'sorry' to them and Tom just calmly shrugged back. After a few minutes she finished the call and Dean uncovered his ears.

"Sorry about that," she apologized. "I've got to pop in downstairs for a few hours."

"Normal stuff or did something come up?" Tom asked so casually that Dean briefly mistook 'downstairs' as referring to somewhere other than Hell.

"One of the units in Argentina that was wiped out the other day was almost entirely from the same caste. Their arch is having a fit—understandably," Kaylee conceded. "But I need to go calm zir down and I'll probably have to get an audit going to make sure we don't have any other castes so densely packed."

"With so many different factions in the army it's very important to make sure the physical locations have a diverse population," Dylaniel explained for Dean's benefit. "It's good for diplomacy and range of abilities, but it also mitigates the odds of losing entire species or groups in a single battle."

"Yeah. Preserving lives is just as big a part of this as taking them." Kaylee muttered.

Dean wasn't sure how he felt about her comment. It made sense, but the way she spoke about killing came off a bit callous. Granted, they were in a war, of which he'd never seen a single battle. That sort of thing had to cause some jading. He decided not to say anything.

"Are you guys gonna keep going with the briefing?" she asked Tom and Dylaniel. "I kinda feel like I should be around for that."

"Go take care of the Hell stuff. We've got plenty of other things to do that need to get done sooner or later," Tom suggested, then looked at Dean. "You need some food or sleep or something?"

"Or something." He did feel a little dazed by the entire experience. His world had been turned upside down and he was having a hard time internalizing the information. A lot of ground had been covered in very little time and the implications hadn't sunk in yet. He knew he had a million questions, but, as he'd learned a few minutes earlier, he barely knew where to begin. It seemed like every new discovery led to a dozen more points needing clarification. "Maybe some food."

"Okay. I'll be back as soon as I can." Kaylee reluctantly nodded in acceptance of the situation being taken out of her hands.

"We'll manage, Kay," Tom reassured before she disappeared. When she was gone, the witch checked his watch, then told Dean, "It's almost midnight, so the kitchen is gonna be closed for a few more hours, but we could probably scrounge up something. Full meal or just a snack?"

The prospect of having something to eat was a little intimidating, but at the same time he knew that it'd been so long since he'd eaten that a little sustenance was necessary. "I don't think I can deal with a whole meal right now."

"I can go find some food," Dylaniel volunteered. "I could also check on the availability of quarters if you'd like to sleep."

"I'm a little burnt out, but I don't think I could sleep if I tried."

"I bet Kit is holed-up somewhere running a card game," Tom suggested excitedly. "Dyl, are you officially off duty? You want to join us?"

Dean's brain could barely wrap itself around the idea of Dylaniel gambling before he answered.

"Yeah, alright. Let me get out of my gear and pick up the food. I'll meet you there," Dylaniel replied, then disappeared.

The thought that an angel was changing clothes temporarily derailed Dean's brain. In the several days he'd known Castiel, the angel's clothing hadn't suffered any lasting wear or dirtying despite being used to clean up a substantial amount of blood.

"Salviel, do you want to play?" Tom added hopefully.

She shook her head. "I know better than to gamble with you guys, but I'll observe."

* * *

Tom led Dean and Salviel on a winding search through the base looking for the game. The base turned out to be the remains of some abandoned, small town center. The one- and two-story buildings had been reinforced with metal paneling and covered with wards. In the moonlight he could see a few guard towers peeking above the roofs, each manned by at least two people. The streets were mostly empty with only the occasional person moving down a side street. Every block seemed to have a portion of the sidewalk dedicated to something resembling a little memorial, or possibly a magic setup, involving flowers, statutes, and candles.

Dean quickly discovered that the location of the game traveled from week to week due to both a lack of unutilized space and also some level of secrecy. Even though it was night and the streets were mostly clear, Tom looked around for observers before ducking into cellars to check for action. There was almost a speakeasy vibe to the entire outing. After four false attempts, Tom finally emerged triumphant.

The cellar was mostly full of wooden and plastic supply crates, some of which had been picked through. A few of the crates against one of the walls had bright orange writing on it which warned, 'Contains rock salt: store away from exits.' In the far corner was a circular plywood table with eight folding chairs. The game was already going with three players, including the dealer.

The dealer was a slightly tanned man in his mid thirties. He had dark brown hair that hung shaggily around his forehead and ears. He was lean and dealt cards incredibly gracefully for someone whose eyes seemed to dart around the room habitually. His clothes looked like military surplus that had been worn until they had somehow softened in spite of their rigid origins.

Another player was a woman of Asian Pacific Islander descent. She had muscular arms for a woman, one of which had a tattoo of the United States Marine Corps emblem. Her hair was buzzed short, matching the military appearance, but her clothes threw Dean. She wore a pink and orange sleeveless sundress, which looked a little aged but still maintained a bizarre level of cheeriness in the otherwise depressing environment.

The last person was a red-headed woman who looked strangely familiar, but Dean had trouble placing her. Some unidentifiable image was cracked, peeling off the front of her black t-shirt. She had beautiful and bold calligraphy tattoos extending up each arm. They read, 'Because I could not stop for Death' and, 'He kindly stopped for me.'

Tom pulled out the chair next to the dealer, hung his tan jacket on the back of the seat, then signaled for Dean to pick a seat for himself. He decided to sit on Tom's other side rather than risk being flanked if anyone else arrived before Dylaniel. Salviel opted to sit on one the supply crates apart from the players, yet still in range if anything turned violent.

"Holy shit! You're—I'm so glad you're alive," the red-headed woman told Dean. "I'm so sorry about shooting you. I wasn't expecting—"

"You're the one that shot me?!" he asked, stunned that he was suddenly at a poker game with his near-murderer.

She'd cleaned herself up and left her green jacket somewhere else, but on closer inspection that was absolutely her. He was upset, but he wasn't entirely sure how to get into a fight with someone who had already apologized. On the other hand, he wasn't really sure how to forgive someone for shooting him.

"She was also the one that saved your life, so it kinda nets out," Tom commented as he fistbumped the dealer in some sort of greeting.

"I'm not sure that's how it works," Dean replied, a little defensively. He wasn't prepared for Tom taking friendly fire so lightly. Glancing back at Salviel, he only got a mildly sympathetic shrug.

"Yeah, that's how it works," the woman in the dress agreed with Tom. A mischievous grin formed around a stir stick that she was chewing on.

"So... rumor is, you're him. You are him, right? Fuck, I have so many questions about how this even works," the redhead said excitedly and waved her hand at Dean indicating his presence.

"Lena, don't make this weird," Tom casually pleaded.

"It's already weird," countered the other woman.

"I-It's always w-weird wh-when you're around, Cindy. Part of your charm," observed the dealer, who through process of elimination must've been Kit. He swept up the cards and shuffled them in a fluid motion, but his upper body rocked gently as if he had a little too much energy to be sitting in a cramped cellar.

"Seriously. It's been a long day, for Dean most of all," Tom said. "We're here to play cards and unwind, so lay off the interrogation. It's all need-to-know basis—and no awkward personal stuff. Just leave him be, okay?" When no one objected Tom continued, "Alright, deal us in and as you were."

"D-do you have cash or need chips?" Kit asked Tom.

"Put $500 on my tab," Tom replied.

Kit pulled out a metal case full of poker chips from underneath the plywood table. He made a note on a pad of paper, then counted out several stacks in various denominations. After passing the pile to Tom, Kit looked to Dean.

Dean searched his pockets, but there wasn't much to be found. "I only have a few bucks."

"Don't worry about it," Tom told him with a wave of his hand. "Kit, I'll front him $500."

Dean raised an eyebrow at the strangely generous loan. "Uh, thanks."

While Kit put together Dean's pile, a light-weight metal container the size of a small first aid kit was passed around to Tom. He opened it up to reveal a pipe, several baggies containing pills, and what looked like weed. Tom packed the pipe with some of the plant material, lit it, and took a hit.

"You want anything?" he asked Dean before looking to Kit. "You have any drinks or are we dry tonight?"

"Found some port." Kit held up a bottle that's label had fallen off. He uncorked the bottle and sniffed it in an almost feral way. "M-maybe a '31 w-with cherry notes."

"I'll pass. Thanks though."

Kit topped off Cindy's glass, then held the bottle out toward Dean, inviting him to have some. Dean weighed his options. He considered himself an able drinker, but port hit a little harder than wine or beer and he hadn't eaten anything in some unknown number of hours. He hadn't gotten high since he was hunting solo in his early twenties, but at least his empty stomach wouldn't affect his tolerance. Granted, he wasn't entirely sure that was weed or even if the potency of weed had held true after over thirty years.

"Just a little smoke. If I start embarrassing myself, cut me off." Dean accepted the pipe from Tom, then took a hit. "So, we doing five-card stud or Texas hold 'em?"

* * *

About a half hour later, Dylaniel entered through the cellar door. He had changed into light grey pants that were very similar to his previous pair, minus the armor. He wore a plain pale blue t-shirt that had probably matched his eyes before it had faded and a grey leather jacket. His sword and dual hip holsters were missing. Though, as he sat down at the empty seat next to Dean, his jacket hung open slightly revealing that he hadn't left his pistols with the rest of his gear. He'd merely switched to shoulder holsters so that he could conceal them below his jacket.

Dylaniel handed Dean a paper bag that contained some jerky, a fruity nutritional bar, and a plastic bag covered in kanji. He didn't recognize the japanese snack, but when he opened it the contents appeared to be small fried patties that smelled like salty deliciousness. It wasn't clear to what extent the weed or his low standards for food over the last few days were affecting his taste. Either way food that came out of plastic bags had no business being so good.

"Ten dollar ante," Kit informed Dylaniel, who pulled a simple gold money clip full of cash from his pocket and joined the pot. Dean eyed the money clip. The gold was a tad out of place for their literally-apocalyptic setting, but otherwise it wasn't too offensive.

Dean tossed in his ante, then started to eat some of the japanese patty snacks. He noticed Kit sniffing the air while eyeing his bag of jerky. After opening the bag and grabbing a piece for himself, he held it out to his host, offering him some.

"N-no, thank you." The corner of Kit's mouth ticked up awkwardly, then he shook his head. "I-I can't eat that stuff."

"Vegetarian?" Dean asked.

Lena, the redhead, laughed at his question, then muttered, "Pretty far from it."

"N-nobody told you…. I-I'm a kitsune," Kit said with a meek smile.

To Dean's knowledge, kitsune only ate parts of human brains. He'd only ever seen one briefly on a hunt when he was a teenager. It'd moved incredibly fast and left at least ten bodies before they'd found her dead. Some other hunter must've gotten her first. In the hunter community, kitsune were considered very dangerous and rare. There were major bragging rights in taking one down… and he was sitting around getting high with one. He realized that he must've been staring because Kit anxiously scratched behind his ear and avoided making eye contact.

"Kit, sweetie, you're all good," Cindy said as she swung an arm around his neck and pulled him close so she could plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Y-you're drunk, Cindy," he responded while blushing, then he looked up to meet Dean's gaze. After a moment's hesitation, he leaned forward across the table, extending his hand to Dean. "W-we haven't b-been properly introduced. I-I'm Jacob, b-but friends call me Jay or Kit, for kitsune."

Dean continued to stare without moving for several seconds. Tom, Lena, and Cindy all watched Dean to see if he was going to leave Kit hanging, but Dylaniel didn't seem particularly concerned with the interaction. After taking a deep breath, Dean reached out and shook Kit's hand.

"Sorry about…. I'm just—this is new for me," Dean said, sitting back down without taking his eyes off Kit.

In all honesty, he was a little uncomfortable. It wasn't every day that he was unarmed in a confined space with something higher on the food chain than himself. He reminded himself that both Salviel and Dylaniel were armed, though Dylaniel's choice of pistols would be frustratingly ineffective against a kitsune. Yet, Kit seemed to be decent so far…. Dean tried to give him some benefit of the doubt.

"I-It's no problem. Actually, I think that w-went b-better than the first time I m-met you."

* * *

 _10/25/2018_

 _Dean was leaning back in his chair with his boots up on what barely passed for his desk, reading a report on three skirmishes that had taken place earlier in the week. He looked up at the sound of someone knocking loudly on his office door. It was hardly seven in the morning, which was over an hour before he was expecting anyone. After lowering his feet to the ground, he sat up in his chair and turned to the door._

 _"Come in."_

 _His mood darkened slightly when he saw the middle-aged man enter the room. He liked Kelley well enough, but that was the problem. Every time there was trouble on the base, the other subordinates would always send in Kelley to give him the bad news. At that early hour it had to be something unpleasant—maybe another brawl between the demons and the hunters. The last one had been such a nightmare to deal with that he'd had to call in both Sam and Bobby to help straighten everyone out._

 _"Sir, I'm sorry, but we have a strange situation…." Kelley started apologetically._

 _Dean hoped his complete lack of surprise looked like discipline or thoughtfulness._

 _"There's…." The subordinate shifted awkwardly. "Well, there's a kitsune here—"_

 _"Why would someone bag a kitsune?" Dean asked in surprise._

 _It'd been a year or two since the hunters under his command had even looked at a monster; they all had bigger concerns. If there was a personal matter that someone needed to go resolve, he would have granted them leave, but dragging a hunt onto the base was against the rules. They couldn't be wasting resources and potentially harming their relations with the demons and angels by falling back into old habits._

 _"No one did. He just came into the camp and surrendered. It looks like he's just a teenager." Kelley looked more anxious than he normally did when breaking bad news. "He asked if you were related to Sam Winchester."_

 _"Where is he?"_

* * *

 _'Teenager' was almost misleading. The boy couldn't have been older than fifteen or sixteen. He was lanky with fair skin, messy brown hair, and teal eyes. His jeans and sweatshirt were slight oversized, giving the distinct impression that he had borrowed or possibly stolen them. The soles of his sneakers were cracked in three places and one of the shoelaces had been replaced with a piece of wire. He had opted to cower in the far corner of his small holding cell rather than sit on the cot that was against one of the side walls._

 _The sight made Dean internally wince with pity, but he reminded himself that kitsune did almost exclusively feed on humans. In spite of the voice in his head warning caution, he wanted to try to improve the situation somehow. He turned to the guard and nodded at the cell door. Once the door was unlocked, Dean walked in, then knelt down across the cell so that he was facing the boy. He kept one hand on his thigh, only a few inches from his blade._

 _"I'm Dean. Do you know who I am?"_

 _The boy nodded repeatedly. His eyes moved around the cell, either taking in many small details or merely avoiding Dean, but they eventually settled on Dean._

 _"Can you tell me your name?" Dean asked._

 _"J-Jacob." He was soft spoken and his nose twitched in a way that Dean initially mistook for fighting back sniffles until he realized that the kitsune was studying some sort of scent. "Are…. Are you related to Sam W-Winchester? You're b-both... h-hunters. I thought that you m-might—you m-might be part of the—you m-might b-be related."_

 _"Why do you want to know?"_

 _"I-I'm supposed to f-find him. I-I need his help." Jacob was trembling._

 _Dean sighed. The kid was either terrified or the world's best actor. He slowly held his hands up, away from his blade and said, "I'm his brother. Listen, there are a lot of people that want to hurt Sam. In general I want to help you, but I'm not sure if I trust you. You have to admit it's pretty weird having a kitsune just hand himself over to someone he knows is a hunter."_

 _"B-but that's w-why I'm supposed to f-find him." The boy leaned forward trying to emphasize some point, but then pulled back into the corner and spoke a little quieter. "B-because he's not like hunters."_

 _"That's an understatement," Dean muttered, but the comment only made Jacob look confused. "What do you need help with anyway?"_

 _The boy's face scrunched up a little as he tried to decide whether he was going to tell someone other than Sam about his problem. Having a minute to look at the kid, Dean noticed that he was a little too pale and clammy. He looked slightly gaunt… underfed, which concerned Dean on more than one level._

 _"Three of m-my pack, they're gone—they've gone m-missing and four w-were killed."_

 _"Kid, I hate to say it, but hunters don't always keep tabs on each other and Sam hasn't really been on good terms with the community for the last decade—"_

 _"I-it w-wasn't hunters." Jacob shook his head, then looked Dean in the eyes for the first time. "Something took them, got in them-"_

 _"Got in them?" Dean asked._

 _"I-I don't know wh-what, b-but I'm supposed to f-find Sam W-Winchester if there's something the pack can't handle—something strange. W-we've never seen it b-before—I didn't know who else to ask. I-I don't know wh-what to do." The boy was starting to ramble, so Dean held up his hand to silence him._

 _"Why are you supposed to find Sam specifically?"_

 _"B-because... he w-won't hurt me."_

 _"Why's that?" Dean knew Sam was a softy at heart, but it'd been about twelve years since that was the public perception; even more so since San Francisco._

 _"He w-was f-friends w-with my mom."_


	45. Gains & Losses

_Dean assigned one angel to find Jacob some better-fitting clothes and try to make him as comfortable as possible. Another angel was assigned to act as a guard outside his holding cell, for his protection, until Dean could figure out what to do with him. After temporarily delegating the boy's care, he cleared his calendar for the day and used a talisman to teleport back home. He found Sam at his cabin, lounging on the couch and reading something on his laptop. When Dean entered, he glanced up from his computer and gave a little wave._

 _"You're back early," Sam commented._

 _Dean hung up his jacket and asked, "Anybody else around?"_

 _"Ruby's working downstairs. Cas, Bobby, and Isa took the kids out to the lake. Flo's still in Virginia…." Sam raised an eyebrow when he noticed Dean wasn't looking particularly cheerful. "Why? Something up?"_

 _"I just wanted to talk with you, one-on-one." Dean quickly assured him, "It's not super bad... mostly weird. We've got a kitsune prisoner in our Fort Bragg base. He just walked in and surrendered."_

 _Sam looked up from his laptop at the mention of a kitsune, but relaxed a bit when Dean said 'he.'_

 _"He was looking for you," Dean continued. "His name is Jacob Pond."_

 _Sam thought for a moment, but shook his head. "Doesn't ring a bell."_

 _"He said his mom, Amy, was a friend of yours."_

 _Dean watched closely for various tells, but he didn't need to look hard at all. Sam lost a little color and closed his laptop. He rested his elbows on his knees, then buried his face in his hands._

 _"Amy has a kid," Sam said mostly to himself._

 _"Hands," Dean commented as he sat down on an armchair._

 _Sam ran his fingers up through his hair, then looking up to face Dean. "Sorry—it's nothing, just surprised."_

 _"So you're friends with a kitsune?"_

 _"We haven't spoken in... years." Sam furrowed his brow, trying to recall some memory. "The last time we talked I was at Stanford."_

 _"Wait, you were friends with a kitsune before the water even got muddied with the Abyssal stuff?"_

 _Sam smiled with false innocence. Dean had come to terms long ago with the fact that Sam kept some unusual company, but that had mostly been derived from his role as King of Hell. The thought that maybe some of it had been foreshadowed years earlier was a little unsettling._

 _"She saved my life when I was fourteen, while you and Dad were on a hunt," Sam explained. "We kept in touch intermittently after that for a few years."_

 _"I don't want to sound like a complete bigot, but kitsune eat humans and you two were like pen pals?"_

 _"She was one of my first real friends. I mean, she knew I was a hunter and…." Sam tilted his head from side-to-side, trying to find the right words. "Somehow she still liked me."_

 _Dean could see the appeal. Growing up as a hunter was a fairly isolated life, with most of your temporary friendships being premised on lies. Having someone to be yourself around counted for a lot, but the fact that she'd been a kitsune was definitely a complication. No wonder he'd never heard of her until the boy had shown up._

 _Sam chewed his lip, then asked, "How old is he?"_

 _"Somewhere in the ballpark of fifteen." Dean could see Sam think through something for a painfully long time._

 _"She wasn't with him, was she." Sam's tone was more of a concerned statement than a question. He looked like he already knew the answer._

 _Dean hated that he had to deliver that kind of news. "I'm sorry. She's dead."_

 _Sam swallowed hard, then nodded as he processed the information._

 _"She had told him to track you down if he ever needed the help of a hunter."_

 _"I guess she's been dead for awhile." Sam's voice had become slightly heavier with the all-too-familiar jaded grief. Had they turned out to be closer Dean might've given Sam some time to mourn, but he had to do something about the kid and there was also intel that Sam needed._

 _"Not that long actually; they just hadn't heard about all this. The demon and angel crowd doesn't really overlap with the—" Dean almost said 'monster crowd,' but stopped himself from triggering one of Sam's pet peeves (honestly, he was getting pretty tired of the word too) "—non-human crowd very much. I guess a few months ago three of the pack members killed half the pack, Amy included, then took off. Jacob left the other two surviving pack members in Chicago and has been trying to find you since."_

 _"Why would kitsune kill their own pack members? Pack loyalties aside, aren't they endangered?"_

 _"Super-endangered nowadays," Dean confirmed. "But I have a guess why the kitsune-on-kitsune violence happened. The kid said the three that started it, their eyes were black."_

 _Sam closed his eyes for moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lilith is possessing non-humans."_

 _"Is that even possible?" Dean asked._

 _"I don't know. If it is, then things are going to turn even messier." Sam opened his eyes. He looked like the mere thought had aged him a year. Frequently at home, when he was feeling relaxed, he had a youthful air about him. But when he switched gears to thinking about work, all the years in Hell would start to creep into the corners of his eyes and mouth. "I'll put people on it. If she's figured out a way to jump non-humans… we need to know, fast."_

 _"Let me know as soon as you hear anything."_

 _Sam nodded, then he turned his attention back to the original topic. "What's going to happen to the kid—Jacob?"_

 _"I'm not sure. We don't really have protocol for a non-human. He's in a cell right now."_

 _Sam stared at Dean in a combination of surprise and disappointment. "He's a kid."_

 _"Don't look at me like that; I know he's a kid," Dean groaned. "I made sure he was comfortable before I came here, but pretty soon he's gonna need to eat and that means humans. I can't have him running out to grab a bite."_

 _"Kitsune don't need the brain to be fresh. It shouldn't be too hard to find bodies," Sam suggested._

 _The corners of Dean's lips curled downward. "Sam, I know you don't work with the flesh half after a person drops, but topside we still have to deal with funeral rites and next of kin. I can't just start feeding our fallen comrades to some kitsune. I don't care if he's a nice kid; desecrating bodies is a big deal."_

 _"What about the meatsuits that demons were riding? Most of them relocate after grabbing the body. That saves you the next-of-kin issue."_

 _"Fuck." Dean slouched in his chair. "We're really talking about what to feed him— What the hell am I supposed to do with him? I can't just let him…."_

 _Sam sat up straighter, preparing himself for a potential argument. "Wait, killing him is off the table, right?"_

 _Dean began rubbing his temples. He didn't want to be the bad guy in the conversation. Sam was the fucking King of Hell. How did Dean always end up being the bad guy?_

 _"I don't want to kill a kid. I don't want to keep him in the cell forever. But I don't want to let him loose out there to kill humans."_

 _"Give him protection and meatsuit brains if he'll agree to stop hunting humans," suggested Sam._

 _"Protection?"_

 _"If Lilith is really possessing non-humans and starting with kitsune, then he might be in danger."_

 _Dean chewed his lower lip while thinking over the options. The kid was a risk, but he'd been in that kind of situation before. Years ago he'd put faith in Sam's ability to carry a grim burden and so far he hadn't regretted the decision. He didn't trust the kid anywhere as much as he had Sam, but giving him a chance felt surprisingly important. Their fledgling army was an unlikely alliance and to turn away the boy because of what he was undermined that ideal._

 _"I don't want him near our home," Dean said with determination. "I don't care if you have some sentimental thing or whatever; he's not going near the kids or Ruby. He'll live on the army's bases and if he can behave himself, I'll make sure he's treated fairly."_

 _"What about the rest of his pack? The two in Chicago?"_

 _"You want to bring them in too?" Dean sighed, then nodded. "If Jacob can talk them into coming peacefully... yeah, we can try to make it work. If Lilith goes looking for more claws, at least she won't find those."_

 _Sam's brow furrowed at a thought. "Wait. How did he even find you with all the security precautions?"_

 _"Yeah, that. Turns out almost all our warding is for angels, demons, and humans, so it didn't really block him at all. And…." Dean smirked at the mental image. "He's been stalking hunters for months. Turns out he can track a scent from a half-mile away and eavesdrop a hundred feet out. He just hunted hunters until he heard the name Winchester and followed them to me."_

 _The fatigue in Sam's demeanor shifted back to a more enthusiastic thoughtfulness at the prospect of having one more trick in their arsenal. "You realize how much of an asset he could be."_

 _"He's clever and a hell of a tracker. I'll give him that. But we're mostly going after baddies that can teleport, which'll null out his tracking ability." Dean shook his head slightly._

 _"Then have him go after the ones that can't teleport."_

 _Sam was suggesting that they send one or more kitsune out to hunt humans. The idea seemed backward and wrong. They'd just gotten done discussing ways of preventing the kitsune from killing humans…. Granted, if it was part of normal operations those humans would be the enemy, not civilians. And otherwise he'd be sending other troops out to do the same thing, and probably less effectively._

 _Dean sighed, then muttered, "I never thought I'd be training a kitsune."_

* * *

"So the army takes…." Dean stumbled on what to say that wasn't 'monsters.' The few seconds of hesitation stretched awkwardly and he hoped that someone would save him before Lena or Cindy could think of a joke or tease at his expense. Thankfully, neither of them went for the easy target of merely calling him a racist. Maybe some of whatever respect they held for the other Dean had spared him that extra level of embarrassment.

"W-we prefer N.H.N. or non-human natives. Earth is our home too. W-we deserve to f-fight f-for it," Kit explained as he shuffled the cards, then dealt out new hands.

"Kit's been with the army for—" Tom began, but Kit finished the sentence for him.

"S-sixteen years."

"He was the first N.H.N. we had and he helped recruit most of the others during the first few years."

"How did you get hunters going along with working with m—N.H.N.?" Dean asked.

He was having a hard time picturing it. It wasn't really clear how much insanity the hunters in the early years of the army had been used to. He thought that he'd had a leg up on crazy, having literally been to Hell and back, but maybe he'd lost some of his headstart when Hell had decided to visit Earth.

"S-some of them didn't, b-but a decent number of them accepted it eventually. N-new reality of the situation." Kit shrugged. "They w-were already w-working with demons and angels. At least kitsune, vamps, and ghouls w-were f-familiar."

"Kaylee wasn't joking about a ghoul being part of the group that brought me in, was she?" Dean asked Tom.

Tom laughed and patted Dean on the back. "No, she wasn't."

"Bones is a bit antisocial, but he comes in handy in hot zones," Lena commented. "He can smell a body a mile away and know whether the heart's still beating or if it's a puppet."

Kit cringed and commented, "I-I can't stand the smell of hot zones."

Dean hadn't noticed any weird smells while in New Orleans, but he didn't exactly have the senses of a predator. Tom passed the pipe to Kit, who took a hit and blew out the smoke slowly.

"You don't get the munchies, do you?" Dean nervously asked Kit.

The kitsune grinned broadly, then leaned back, caught in a giggling fit.

* * *

An hour in, Dean and Dylaniel were each up almost a thousand dollars. Cindy was holding her own, but not making any real ground. Kit, Lena, and Tom were both dangerously low on funds after Dylaniel had stolen a large pot by bluffing with an ace high. Dean had to admit that he was mostly winning through the luck of good hands, since he had no idea what the common tells were for angels, stoned witches, and a kitsune with some sort of compulsive disorder, though it did make the game a tad more interesting.

The conversation had fallen into what must've been a favorite topic when intoxicated: which species or faction had gotten the worst deal in the war. As much as they were all on the same side, there seemed to be a reasonable amount of friendly teasing. They were a diverse group with varying strengths and weaknesses, and their interdependence made them more tolerant of their differences. That tolerance gave a nice lightheartedness to explicitly discussing the groups, which Dean enjoyed listening to.

"I don't know." Lena waved her hands a little too emphatically as she spoke. "You hunters used to work in groups sometimes, right? So it's not like this is so different."

"Bullshit. I've met a lot of hunters in my life and you can't get more than three with their guns pointed in the same direction without their backs against a wall," Dean argued. He took another hit from the pipe and passed it to Tom.

"You have to admit, you guys were having your civil war in Hell before it went nuts up here. The change wasn't so big for you." Tom pointed at Lena, which caused Dean to furrow his brow.

"I'm sorry, working with you sentimental fuckers and the-Host-with-the-most was a big change." She popped a yellow pill in her mouth.

"You're a demon?" Dean asked Lena.

She turned her eyes black, then winked at him. He slowly shook his head at the discovery, then shrugged. Honestly, it really didn't surprise him that much when it came right down to it.

"See $60 and raise $40." Cindy counted out a handful of twenties and threw them into the pot. "For the record, civy humans had it the worst. When I was a kid none of y'all even existed as far as we were concerned. Then it's practically rainin' you. I was in AP biological chemistry when I was in high school— What the fuck do you do with biological chemistry when zombies turn out to be real?"

Lena looked over her cards and her very small pile of cash, then groaned. "Can I barter? I don't want to drop my last $40 on the hand. I'm swinging through Memphis before my next deployment and I want to have some real food. They've got barbeque there, slow-cooked dry-rub pork shoulder. I need to try that before I die."

"You already died," Cindy corrected between chews on her third stir stick of the night.

"W-what're you putting in the pot instead?" Kit asked warily. He was doing an admirable job of trying to keep order in a card game where every player had lost their sobriety long ago. Even Dylaniel had accepted some unknown number of glasses of port.

Lena suggested, "My shirt."

"Yes," Tom said while holding up his hand to silence either or both Dean and Dylaniel. "That's fine. Kit, please let it happen."

"Sure," Kit agreed. "F-fine."

Dean looked back at Salviel for signs of impending danger. "I think Salviel is allowed break my legs if I play strip poker."

"Well it's a good thing you still got cash." Lena took another yellow pill from the baggie and popped it in her mouth. She watched Tom counting his money while debating the strength of his hand. "Join me, Tom. That shirt is looking pretty ratty."

"I'm not losing this shirt." Tom's tone was surprisingly serious. "It was a gift."

Lena raised her hands to indicate that she didn't mean to offend him. "You know we'll give it back. Hell, Dean's probably the only one it'd fit and he owes you $500."

Tom looked down at his clothes and thought for several seconds, then nodded. "I'm in."

"Cindy? Kit? Tell me you guys are in?" Lena bounced a bit in her seat from excitement.

Cindy turned to face Lena and used an arm to prop up her head. "Lena, how long have you had that body?"

"About twelve years."

"It's a great body and what a lovely set of tits you have." She gently patted Lena's closest breast. "But I've had mine for all thirty-six years of my life and I'm not sure I'm ready to just whip 'em out for your amusement."

"You know you want to," Lena cooed into Cindy's ear as Tom silently nodded in encouragement.

"I'm wearing a dress," Cindy pointed out. "I've only got three pieces of clothing to your four."

"So you take off 75% of each piece per lost hand?" Lena suggested, causing Cindy to giggle.

"Yeah, two loses and I'm going to take off half my bra."

"One cup—it'll work," Tom noted.

Cindy grinned while shaking her head. "I'm just going to stick with cash and enjoy the show. Thanks though."

"G-going to pass too," Kit added.

"Fine." Lena spared Kit the heckling, but turned her attention to the remaining player. "Dylaniel?"

He didn't even look up from his cards. "No."

"Come on."

"Not happening."

"I promise someday I will see your sweet little six pack. It's probably adorable." Lena winked at Dylaniel, but relented. Dean got the distinct impression that Kit wasn't the only predator at the table.

The first hand of the mixed pot went to Tom, who raised an eyebrow when Lena slipped off her black t-shirt to reveal a turquoise bra. Her shoulder had a brand on it that reminded Dean of the one Meg had used on Sam to prevent being exorcised. She also had a few tattoos, both magical and at least five of purely decorative skulls.

Despite having collected over $200 in the previous hand, Tom continued to bet his clothing and lost his shirt to Lena in the second round. Dean was surprised to see that Tom was actually pretty muscular for a witch. He'd assumed that being a caster would leave witches soft physically, but not this time. Tom's chest was a massive web of magical wards including a healing ward similar to Sam's and an anti-possession tattoo that had been slightly augmented. His necklaces jingled as he took his shirt off and the silver locket stood out against his dark skin.

The third hand went to Dylaniel. Lena pulled off her jeans, exposing the matching panties to her turquoise bra, then smiled at Tom. He took off his pants to reveal a pair of hot pink and white-rose-patterned silk boxers.

"Dyl, can I switch seats with you?" Dean asked. "If Tom loses the next hand I do not want to accidentally sneak a peek."

They swapped seats, then the cards were dealt. Dylaniel and Kit both bet up the pot high enough to force Cindy and Dean to fold. Tom and Lena were limited in their bet, so they both just sat staring each other down across the table. At the end of betting, the hands were flipped.

Tom grinned at his three of a kind, until Kit put down his straight. Lena held her head high as she threw her bra to Kit, She didn't bother trying to cover her breasts at all. Not that they were the center of attention with Tom losing the same hand. Tom slipped off his boxers and tossed them into the pot. Kit wrapped his arms around everything in the pot except the boxers, then pulled it to him.

"T-Tommy, I don't think—" Kit started, but was interrupted by Lena.

"Kit, trade you my panties for Tom's boxers."

Kit looked up a little surprised by the offer. "B-by all m-means."

Lena slipped off her panties, then tossed them to Kit. She grabbed the boxers from the center of the table, then held them up.

"Were these a gift?" she asked.

"No," Tom replied.

Lena yanked on the boxers, ripping the sides so that they couldn't be used again. Dean was impressed by the display of strength necessary to tear silk. Tom raised an eyebrow with an intrigued grin on his face. Dylaniel rolled his eyes, then stood up.

"I'm out," Dylaniel said as he tucked his $980 into his pocket without stopping to fold it up or record his chips with Kit. He finished his glass of port in two very long pulls, then actually stumbled slightly while maneuvering around his chair. Dean wasn't sure what was more surprising: seeing an angel get intoxicated so easily or that no one seemed worried by the fact that he was armed. "Salviel, could you make sure Dean gets a place to sleep?"

"He could stay in Tom's quarters," Lena suggested. "It's not like he's gonna be there tonight."

Tom beamed with a sense of victory and accepted a fistbump from Kit.

"You know what, fuck it. I'm getting out of here too. Goodnight," Dean said, then followed Dylaniel out of the cellar.

Once they got back out onto the empty street, Dylaniel stopped and turned to Dean. "If you want to stay at Tom's bunk you can. I guarantee that he's spending the night with Lena."

"Are they a thing?" Dean asked as he glanced back at the cellar door.

"No, but they both knew it was going to happen. It's common knowledge that when Tom gets talked into strip poker, in the end he'll play to lose."

"You guys are confusing as hell, but you aren't so bad."

"If you need anything, let Salviel know and she can contact me. Otherwise I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Dyl." Dean patted Dylaniel's shoulder, earning him a strangely contemplative look in return. A weird feeling of déjà vu came over Dean, but he shook it off as maybe being an effect of the weed. After a moment, Dyl nodded and disappeared.


	46. Realization & Recognition of Bonds

Tom's bunk turned out to be a windowless room that was no bigger than a walk-in closet. It was unremarkable in every way, one among a hundred tiny rooms within a converted motel. The single bed took up the majority of the floor space. A few small wall-mounted shelves held some bundles of clean clothes and a bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, but otherwise the room was entirely empty. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, then looked up at Salviel.

She'd followed him into the small room and leaned against the opposite wall. He wondered how literally she would take her instructions to not let him leave her sight. Would he be able to talk her into standing outside the room or would she watch him sleep? The thought made him a little uncomfortable. He didn't even see a chair for her to sit down on or a book to give her the appearance of distraction.

"Tom didn't strike me as the vow-of-poverty kind of guy," Dean commented, breaking the awkward silence.

"He isn't," she replied. "He doesn't live here. It's just the communal room he's using while on the base. These few blocks are all temporary housing and mess."

That was a little reassuring. The thought that someone who seemed as together as Tom primarily living in such a depressing environment wouldn't have boded well for the population as a whole.

"Where does he live normally?"

"I don't know; it's classified," Salviel said as she took out one of her angel blades and used its edge to trim her fingernails.

"I take it he's one of the bigwigs around here," Dean guessed, then reconsidered his statement after looking around the tiny room again. Surely Tom would at least have a chair if he was an officer in their organization? And yet Tom had been given the authority to dismiss Salviel from shadowing him.

"Tom likes to stay out of the chain of command. He calls himself a freelancer, since he's worked a wide variety of jobs at more bases than most people can even name." She shook her head. "No, it's classified because otherwise it'd give up where Kay lives."

Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Kay, as in Kaylee?"

"Yeah."

"They live together?" He had wondered what the deal was between the two of them, but when Tom started getting flirty with Lena the idea was abandoned.

"Some of the time, yes." Salviel slipped the angel blade back into its holster, then noticed the thoughtful expression on Dean's face. "Is something wrong?"

"I just assumed that the two of them weren't a couple becau—"

"They aren't a couple. They're siblings."

* * *

 _10/01/2012_

 _"Tom, if you want to go into town you better get your ass out of bed!" Ruby yelled through the bedroom door._

 _The wooden door had dozens of wards drawn onto it in marker, some of which had been painted over in a hue that didn't quite match the original shade of seafoam green. A paper sign that read, 'Keep out. I'm being awesome," was taped to the door._

 _"If he's like this now, I can't imagine how it's gonna be when he's a teenager."_

 _Across the large open room that made up a combination kitchen, dining room, and living room, Dean and Cas sat at the dining table watching Kaylee. Dean was eating some oatmeal with a side of bacon, while Cas sat in the chair next to him entertaining the not-quite-three-year-old._

 _"Go easy on him. Sleeping in is a rite of passage for young people," Dean said as he topped off his own cup of coffee, then filled a mug for Cas, passing it to him after adding a little cream._

 _"I didn't sleep in when I was his age," Ruby complained, still standing by the bedroom door._

 _"But you had a fucked-up childhood."_

 _"Look who's talking... but fair point." Ruby chewed her lip and waved a hand dismissing some expectation. "These kids are gonna be so fucked up."_

 _"You both agreed to avoid profanity around the children," Cas said as he bounced Kaylee on his knee. He didn't bother trying to cover her ears. That would've been an eternal struggle._

 _"Oh, no. She might get sent home from preschool." Ruby rolled her eyes and mimed concern. "First priority is stopping her from flashing eyes because she thinks it's funny. Then we can worry about her wide breadth of vocabulary."_

 _Ruby knocked on the bedroom door again, provoking a groggy shout indicating some level of consciousness. After sighing, she shrugged and returned to her seat at the table. She ate a few bites of her extra-crispy hash browns with a liberal squirt of ketchup, then cut up pieces of a banana which she passed over to Cas. Cas helped Kaylee eat the banana, then let her down when she was done._

 _Ruby eyed the clock, then walked back over to the bedroom door. "Tom, you've got ten more minutes before I send Dean in after you!"_

 _"Seriously, still?" Dean leaned back in his chair. "How much longer am I gonna be on bedroom duty?"_

 _"I'm thinking at least two more visits."_

 _"It was one devil's trap," he muttered. "Anyway, he's just gonna figure out something to pull on me. If I get hexed trying to drag him out of bed—"_

 _The bedroom door opened. Tom walked out in a sleepy haze. He wore blue flannel pajama pants, an oversized Violent Femmes t-shirt, and no socks. His hair was just over four inches long and slightly flattened on the right side. He carried a bundle of clothing under one arm, waved using the other without looking, then turned straight into the bathroom._

 _"I know Sam's cool with long hair, but I just don't get it." Dean self-consciously ran his fingers over his hair, trying to smooth down some of its poofiness. "I can barely stand letting my hair get this long."_

 _"You look good with your hair like that," Ruby commented, earning a small grin of appreciation from him._

 _"Maybe Tom's experimenting with rebelling?" Cas suggested._

 _"If he was actually rebelling I think he'd take up accounting as a hobby," Ruby countered. "He's just figuring himself out."_

 _"Yeah, well don't expect anything to stick for a while. He's turning nine. You've got at least ten more years of hormones and all the crazy that comes with it," Dean warned as he recalled Sam and his own teenage years._

 _"If he's anything like you, he's got, what twenty-five more years? You still hormonal and crazy, old man?" Ruby teased._

 _"Yeah. I'm the old one, but somehow I'm always the one climbing the trees after him." Dean threw her a friendly glare._

 _"You're a hunter. You've got to stay in peak physical condition, or something like that," Ruby theorized while taking another bite of food. She looked at Cas, who nodded in agreement with her._

 _On cue, Kaylee tagged Dean and ran around the living room to hide behind an armchair. He sighed at the prospect of physical effort before he'd even finished breakfast, then gave chase. He intentionally let her get away from him a few times, but eventually grabbed her and began tickling her stomach._

 _"You're actually looking surprisingly spry," Ruby noted._

 _"He's in excellent physical condition" Cas agreed._

 _"You would say that," Ruby commented through a mouthful of hash browns._

 _Dean scooped up Kaylee with one arm and held her at waist height. Her legs dangled in the direction he was facing and her upper body faced behind him. She giggled and squealed about being the wrong way._

 _"I'll have you know that, apart from the munchkin here, I'm the youngest one in the room," Dean said smugly._

 _"I've spotted a grey hair or two on you," Ruby jabbed._

 _Dean flipped off Ruby out of Kaylee's view. "Yeah, well. You two are cheating. Some of us actually have to age."_

 _There was a knock at the front door, then Sam entered. It was an unnecessary gesture since he had just teleported straight from Hell and could choose to appear almost anywhere that wasn't warded against him, yet he tried to give others their personal space and fair warning._

 _Kaylee started flailing her arms and legs, excitedly trying to escape from Dean's arm. Dean spun around a few times before putting her down, causing her to giggle and stumble around dizzily for a moment. She eventually staggered her way to Sam, who wrapped her in a massive hug. He tossed her in the air a few times, then took a seat at the table with her still hanging from his neck._

 _"Is Tom good to go?" Sam asked while stealing a bite of hash browns from Ruby's plate._

 _"He had a late start," Ruby said, then glanced at the bathroom door. "He'll probably be out of the bathroom soon."_

 _"Does he still want to go into town?"_

 _"Yep. He wants some new clothes and to hang out with 'the guys.' You might as well try to do something fun while you're at it." Ruby had been disappointed that Tom's expectations for a birthday involved buying new pants and hanging out with people he saw regularly._

 _"We'll figure something out," Dean assured her._

 _Sam smiled at Dean and Cas. "Thanks for making it on such short notice."_

 _"It's not a problem. We just finished a hunt when you called and it was barely a day's drive," Cas explained._

 _"We've done like five hunts in a row. I'm glad to be home for a while," Dean added with a smile. "I've become soft. Motel beds just aren't the same."_

 _"They're much harder and…" Cas frowned "of questionable sanitary conditions."_

* * *

 _Once Tom was ready to go, Dean and Sam played rock-paper-scissors over who got to drive the Impala into town. Sam won, Tom took shotgun, while Dean and Cas piled in the backseat. Sam forfeited the driver's right to pick the music to Tom, who decided to start with The Clash. It was about a three-hour drive to Saskatoon, offering plenty of time for stories and joking around._

 _"You're exaggerating," Cas objected._

 _"I'm taking creative license," Dean admitted with a little shrug. "You can't expect me to tell them about the rugaru hunt without giving a little texture."_

 _"Maybe leave out some of the texture," Sam requested, nodding toward Tom._

 _"I'm not a little kid, Sam," Tom said indignantly. "It's not gonna scare me."_

 _"I'm not worried that it'll scare you. I'm worried that next birthday you'll be asking to tag along with Dean and Cas on a hunt." The boy looked thoughtful for a moment before Sam told him, "No way."_

 _Tom slouched slightly in defeat, then began absentmindedly chewing on one of the pull strings of his plum-colored hoodie._

 _"Yeah, you have to be able to drive before you can go on hunts," Dean added, but Tom excitedly turned around to face him._

 _"So... you're saying that you'll teach me to drive next year?" Tom grinned._

 _"Sam, stop letting him hang out with your Crossroads buddies."_

 _They stopped at a burger shop in downtown before going shopping. Dean and Tom both got bacon cheeseburgers and milkshakes. Sam ordered a veggie burger and an iced tea. Cas got the smallest, plainest burger on the menu and water. He didn't need to eat and some days it was an unpleasantly intense experience, but he knew it was important both as a way of pretending to be human and also from a social aspect. When the food came, Cas wordlessly transferred his pickle spear and french fries to Dean's plate, earning a smile from him in return._

 _"Get a room," Sam playfully teased._

 _"I thought we would be back at the camp before night?" Cas asked._

 _"It was a joke, Cas." Dean put a hand on the angel's shoulder. "I'll explain it to you later."_

 _Cas nodded and gingerly began eating his burger._

 _"These f'ies ar' amazing!" Dean held up a few french fries to emphasize the point, but talking with his mouth partially full had also gotten the job done. "You should take Ruby here. Cas and I will watch the kids—"_

 _"I'm not a kid," Tom reminded them as he sat up a little straighter in the booth._

 _"We'll watch the kid and the adult that doesn't need to shave yet."_

 _"Thanks, but you might not have to," Sam replied. "Bobby should be back from Jody's in a few days and he's long overdue for some domestic duty."_

 _"He's supposed to take me fishing and shooting. You could come too," Tom offered them hopefully._

 _"Did he say what kind of gun he'd be starting you on?" Sam looked a little nervous, but knew better than to question the wisdom of Bobby._

 _"Shotgun." Tom grinned broadly at the idea of utterly destroying targets. Sam and Dean both took the weapon choice as more of a defensive tool that could be equipped with salt shells rather than something as explicitly lethal as a pistol._

 _After getting to know a few hunters, Tom had learned that they weren't the boogeymen he'd imagined as a child. In the last year, he had started emulating Dean a bit more, seeking to be a bit tougher. Tom still idolized Sam, but Dean shared stories of dramatic battles and Sam rarely shared stories from his 'work.'_

 _Recently, Sam had been a bit concerned that Tom would want to be a hunter, but it was a little hard to imagine with the relatively intense magical training that he was receiving from Ruby. He was naturally gifted with the craft, and there was an unspoken expectation among other witches and Maji that Ruby's apprentice would someday lead a coven. Sam and Ruby both made Tom's safety and happiness a top priority, expectations be damned... though they had to admit that nowadays leading a coven was probably safer than hunting._

* * *

 _After lunch they went to a department store to satisfy Tom's request for some more clothes. He was the oldest boy in the coven, which meant that he more or less didn't get any hand-me-downs. It was true that he occasionally borrowed shirts from Ruby, but that wasn't an ideal source for a wardrobe._

 _Sam and Ruby generally let him do anything with his appearance that he wanted. A few months earlier he'd grown his hair out until his afro was completely unwieldy. Sam had been the one to explain the joy of hair ties, clips, and headbands. Since then, the hair length may have been reduced, but Tom usually wore some bright hair accessory, several of which he borrowed from the girls in the coven. No one made fun of his little embellishments, but on the unusual instance when the boy was in public it earned a few glances. On this outing he wore a teal paisley headband complete with a small white bow accent._

 _Tom was holding a handful of new purple-flower-covered hair ties while Sam and Dean helped him look for shirts big enough that he wouldn't immediately outgrow them. Dean kept suggesting muted colors, rock band t-shirts, and plain designs. Sam instead pulled out brighter colors and plaids. Meanwhile, Cas just watched the show._

 _Dean and Cas decided to go look for a pair of boots that would serve better in the wilderness than Cas's dress shoes while Sam paid for Tom's clothes. After gathering up an arm's worth of clothing, Sam made his way to find a register while Tom tagged along. As the pile started to get rung up, Tom became distracted by a display of tennis shoes in a variety of neon colors that was across the department. He went to go take a closer peek in the hopes of further cashing in on his birthday fortune._

 _There was a loud sound like a crack from outside the store, followed by screaming and several small explosions. The cashier dove behind the counter, but Sam barely took cover at all. He spun around looking for Tom, who wasn't in view. He ducked down to see if Tom had taken cover below any of the clothing racks, but the boy wasn't there. He was frustrated that he couldn't sense him, since Tom wasn't any bit demon. Sam started yelling for him._

 _There was another explosion, which was close enough to knock out a nearby display window. Sam held up his hand, telekinetically stopping the glass shards before they hit him. He hopped onto the checkout counter to get a better view, then saw him. Tom was huddled, taking cover about sixty feet away behind a metal bench. The screaming outside got louder for a second before the sound of gunshots started. Sam sprinted toward Tom, pushing all obstacles out of his way. He telekinetically threw a table in front of the window closest to Tom, then slid down to him._

 _"Dad!" Tom yelled and grabbed onto Sam, who scooped him up and sprinted with him toward the back of the store. Another small explosion rattled the front of the store, but Sam shielded them from the few pieces of debris._

 _About halfway through the store, Dean and Cas rounded a corner into view. Dean's shoulder was bleeding, but he refused to slow down long enough for Cas to heal the cut._

 _"Are you guys alright?" Dean asked as they ran through the employees-only area looking for an exit out the back._

 _"We're okay. Do you know what's up?"_

 _"I think it's one of those end-of-days groups."_

 _"Here for us?" Sam asked._

 _For months there had been slightly more chatter online from that crowd about taking a shot at 'the Devil,' but it hadn't been given too much attention. Sam barely read the threat assessment reports anymore. As the world got crazier, the number of people who wanted to kill him for any given reason grew._

 _"I don't think so. It looked like they went after the bank across the street. There's—" Dean started to answer, but was interrupted by the sound of another explosion. It seemed to be coming from a side street instead of the front of the store, which threw their escape route into question._

 _"We're getting out of here," Cas said as he reached forward and touched a hand to each of the brothers._

 _Suddenly they were outside Sam and Ruby's cabin. Cas staggered a little bit from the effort, but Dean caught and held him up until he collected himself._

 _"You okay Cas?" Dean asked._

 _"I'm fine. It's just difficult to teleport in through the wards sometimes." Cas took a breath, then stood taller. "I'll go back and get the Impala. We wouldn't want her to get damaged."_

 _"Thanks, Cas," Dean said as the angel reached to heal his injured arm. "Don't bother; I can patch it up. Save your energy."_

* * *

 _Tom opened up the front door of their cabin and ran straight to Ruby. She was a little surprised, but accepted his nearly-debilitating hug without question. Kaylee had been sitting on the floor close by, but, seeing the opportunity for a group hug, ran to Tom and hugged his leg. Ruby turned to see Sam walk in the front door covered with dust, followed by a bleeding Dean. Her eyes grew wide. She patted Tom's head in reassurance and mouthed 'What the fuck happened?' to Sam. In return, Sam briefly threw his hands up before rubbing his temples._

 _"Hey Tommy, have I ever shown you how to treat a cut like this?" Dean asked, pointing to his shoulder. When Tom shook his head, he replied, "Would you like me to show you? Sam and I were stitching cuts when we were your age."_

 _Tom seemed a little distracted by the chance to help Dean and learn something that made him more like his role models. Sam patted his brother's back in wordless gratitude. Dean reached down and picked up Kaylee with his good arm._

 _"Come on, munchkin. Let's make you into a mummy as long as we're breaking out the first aid kit."_

 _Once Dean had led the kids out of the room, Sam collapsed on the couch and let out a long groan. Ruby sat down on one of the armrests, then watched him. She knew that something big had happened, but decided to give Sam a moment to order his thoughts. He looked apprehensive more than anything else and that worried her more than the little pieces of drywall in Sam's hair or the three-inch-long gash in Dean's arm._

 _"There was some end-of-days group attack next to us—it wasn't directed at us, just a fluke. A couple of explosions and gunfire…." He looked her in the eyes. "Ruby, it finally happened."_

 _"What?" She slid down the armrest onto the cushion next to him and put a hand on his thigh._

 _"He called me 'Dad.'" Sam leaned his head back against the top of the couch so that he was staring at the ceiling. "I don't even think he noticed it. He was completely freaked out. It was a slip."_

 _"We kinda figured that this might happen. I mean, he's basically been with us since day one."_

 _"I know, and I'm fine with it— You know I'm…." Sam's mouth moved a bit, unsure of how to articulate his feelings. They both loved Tom and he thought of the boy as son, but taking that next step meant being careful not to overstep._

 _"I know what you mean." She took his hand in hers. "It's daunting, but it's time."_

 _"We need to have a talk with him," he agreed. "We've been dodging this thing too long."_

* * *

 _After slipping into their bedroom for a few minutes to get ready, Sam and Ruby asked Dean to continue watching Kaylee for a while while they talked with Tom. He'd retreated to his bedroom after watching the lesson in suturing a cut. To his surprise, he was allowed to finish the last inch, minus knotting off the end. In spite of the pride he'd felt, the sight of the blood had left him wanting to lie down for a bit. He had opted to lounge on his bed reading some comic books that Dean had brought him during a previous visit._

 _"Can we talk for a minute?" Ruby asked, peeking her head in the open door._

 _Tom nodded as he sat up, then put his comics off to the side. Sam sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, while Ruby pulled up a desk chair next to the bed._

 _"Tom, when we were at the store during the attack, do you remember what you said to me?" Sam asked with as soft a tone and posture as his large frame would allow. The last thing he wanted was for Tom to think that he'd done something wrong._

 _Tom looked thoughtful as he replayed the scene in his mind. After a moment his eyes widened a little and he looked down at his bedding. He didn't make a sound. Sam put his hand on Tom's shoulder and squeezed it gently in reassurance._

 _"Do you remember your dad?"_

 _"Some stuff." Tom traced the seams of his pillow with his fingertips. It'd been almost three years since Gabin had been killed. For one-third of Tom's life he'd lived with Sam and Ruby, but in terms of his memory that third was overwhelming. "He would make me pancakes with blackberries in them. When he'd make them, he sang to me…. I don't remember what the songs were."_

 _Tom refused to look at either of them and his shoulders slumped with the confession that he'd forgotten which songs Gabin used to sing. Ruby leaned forward to bring herself into the edge of Tom's vision._

 _"When we lose people, even people that are important to us, it's normal to sometimes not remember things. You haven't done anything wrong, if you're worried about that." She leaned closer into his field of view, but he didn't try as hard to evade her gaze. "Sam, me, Dean, Bobby, Belda—all of us have lost people and even though we want to hold onto every detail and memory, sometimes we can't…. All we can hold onto for sure is that feeling they gave us."_

 _Ruby reached out and lightly tapped Tom's chest over his heart with her fingertips. 'Love' was not a word that was ever really said around the camp or among the Winchester brothers. Only once had Sam and Dean braved the foreign territory of seriously using the word and then it was promptly hidden away again. Sam and Ruby had never used the word to describe their relationship, but that was largely because they almost never tried to described their relationship at all._

 _It was an uncomfortable topic, but giving meaningful relationships the recognition that they deserved was important, especially when trying to relate to Tom's relationship with his father. Sam couldn't honestly relate through his own father's death. Too many things had been dissimilar. But he'd had another loss better suited for the reassurance he and Ruby were trying to give. He took a breath to gain some courage._

 _"A few years ago, I had a friend… a girlfriend, Jessica, that I cared about more than anything, and she died. I was scared that, because I'd lost her, I'd lost all the happiness that being with her had brought me. And after awhile, I'd forgotten some of the little things…." Sam felt a faint tightness in his throat, but he swallowed and continued in spite of it. "I don't remember her smile, but just the thought of her smiling brings back some of that happiness she gave me when she was alive."_

 _"You don't feel sad when you think about her?" Tom asked quietly without looking up._

 _"Sometimes I do, but I try to focus on the time we had together and the joy it still gives me." Sam glanced up at Ruby. "I didn't think that I'd ever feel like that again, but then I found out that Ruby makes me feel…. She makes me happier than I'd thought possible. But the way I feel about Ruby doesn't take away from the happiness that Jessica gave me. I'm grateful that I've had so many people in my life that've cared about me, each in their own time and way."_

 _Sam felt like he must've been blushing. It was embarrassing enough talking about his relationships with Jessica and Ruby, but it was even worse with Ruby sitting right there. To her credit she didn't tease him or say anything to further muddy the message that they were both trying to get at. Sam wasn't sure how clear his metaphor was or whether it was a sufficient segue into what they'd come in to talk about, but Tom at least seemed to have adopted a more receptive and contemplative posture. Sam subtly nodded encouragingly at Ruby._

 _"Sam and I care about you and Kaylee more than anything. We'll never replace your parents, Gabin and Grace, but we also want you to know that you're part of our family." Ruby smiled and took Tom's hand. "Want to kinda make it official and have us be your other Mom and Dad?"_

 _Tom started to tear up. He squeezed her hand, then nodded, unable to speak. He rushed forward and hugged Ruby. She hugged him back, while pulling him close. Tom was a bit too big to sit on her lap, but they didn't care._

 _Sam watched Tom cling to his surrogate mother in desperation and relief. He and Ruby had been Tom's primary guardians for years, but the lack of structure in the camp had stopped them from taking the next step. They'd been scared to overstep their boundaries with him, but in the meantime Tom had been left in a no man's land. The boy hadn't cared about boundaries or propriety. He cared about having parents that loved him._

 _"It's not a bunch of new clothes, but happy birthday." Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver locket. He handed it to Tom, who carefully examined it. When opened from one side it revealed a photo of Gabin and a picture of the charcoal drawing of Grace that had been in the coven's classroom. When opened from the other side it revealed a photo each of Sam and Ruby. Tom slipped it on his neck and hugged them both._

* * *

Dean considered Tom with newfound curiosity. He was 99% sure that Tom wasn't biologically Sam's kid for a whole lot of reasons and even if Ruby hadn't always used white meatsuits, he'd heard that Kaylee was her first kid, demon or otherwise. He would have had to have been part of Ruby's coven, rescued shortly after the time that Dean had time traveled.

"Tom's adopted?"

Salviel nodded. No wonder Tom seemed so eager to please him. Not only had Tom known him for thirty years, but they were family.

Dean suddenly wondered how much he'd been a part of Tom's life. He'd apparently started hunting with Cas, which would have kept him away from Kaylee and Tom for a significant amount of time. Though he liked to think he would've made time to see his niece—and, he supposed, nephew.

So Sam had basically had two kids. Kaylee had said he was a good dad and Tom hadn't indicated that that was any bit wrong. It was a strange thought that his little brother could fall into the responsibility of parenthood so easily. Sammy had almost always wanted a quieter life, so in a way it made sense that he'd settle into the family life. It probably helped ground him against whatever onslaught the time in Hell threw at him.

Dean sat staring at the undecorated wall for several minutes. He replayed his interactions with Tom in his mind. He tried to imagine events from Tom's perspective: being completely unidentifiable to someone that he'd known almost all his life. How does that sort of introduction even begin?

He supposed Tom hadn't been sure how to deal with the situation and opted to avoid it—in classic Winchester fashion. Coping with intoxicants and a one-night-stand also sounded like a strangely familiar method of dealing with confused feelings. They really were family.

"Are you okay?" Salviel asked in what seemed like sincere concern, which he appreciated.

"I just…. I don't recognize my family." He looked up at her. "Even with the ruined city, and the apocalypse, and the angels, and everything—I think that's the thing that makes me feel lost."


	47. How to Skin Friends & Influence People

Dean was walking through a labyrinth of jagged stone hallways. He could hear the echoes of screams from some far-off place, but he wasn't sure which direction the sound was coming from. Half of him wanted to try to save the person from whatever torture was being inflicted upon them. The other half knew better; it wanted to run from the threat.

It wasn't cowardice. He was being pragmatic. In that place pain was the only form of interaction—you either gave it or received it. There wasn't compassion or mercy beyond…. It wasn't death Every one of them was already dead. But you could wholly destroy souls—not just ruining them, but twisting them beyond what his master had commanded.

His master had said that only weak souls faded in the fires of progress and the strong would be forged into demons, yet Dean hadn't found that to be true. He had been under that misconception for years, while learning to work his prisoners, reluctantly at first, but less so over time. Once he had improved enough to be granted his privacy while working, he began to indulge his curiosity.

There had been a soul, a woman. She broke without much difficulty and began to turn easily. He reached to cut her free from her bindings, to send the new demon down the next stretch of the path to damnation, but he couldn't. She had had green eyes when she'd arrived, just a manifested memory of her former self. They had been so much like his own… and he'd turned hers black.

He gripped her throat, shaking her and slamming her head into the stone table she was bound to. Somewhere in the agony he'd inflicted the color had been lost, drowned in the dismal greys and muddy reds of Hell. Green, the color of life, had been lost. Dragging his sickle along her temple he felt the intoxication of clear purpose for the first time in decades. His training to be calm and calculating faltered as her tore into her, trying to find those lost green eyes. When he stopped her eyes weren't green or black—they were dull and empty.

She had been his first, but once he'd learned about that sweet spot of vulnerability right after the change… he tried to reach it whenever he could. It was an act of mercy—and it felt good. When every soul was condemned from the moment they crossed the gates of Hell, cutting through them fast and viciously just made sense.

But this moment didn't make sense. He'd gotten out of Hell. He'd found Sam and met all sorts of strange people. Sam had had a daughter, and maybe he'd adopted a son—or was that another Sam? He'd been saved from Hell…. He was just having a dream. He wasn't condemned anymore—he was just having a dream. He didn't need to torture and destroy—he was just having a dream. His master—

Dean frantically looked around the immediate hallways for Alastair. He'd had this dream before and each time the archdemon had taken him apart piece-by-piece. One of the cell doors was unlocked, so he ducked inside, pressing his body to the wall to hide. Darkness engulfed him, but it didn't provide the comfort of being hidden.

This was wrong. He was being watched. It was a new and unsettling development to the otherwise standard nightmare. Hiding seemed wrong. He'd be caught if he didn't keep moving, so Dean tried something completely unexpected. He moved back into the hallway and ran. He didn't care where to; toward the screams or away from them, he couldn't tell. Just as long as he was moving and it was different than the same routine that eventually would lead to Alastair.

When his lungs felt like they would collapse, he stopped and took in his surrounding. He was in a medium-sized carving room. The floor was ridged in elaborate patterns to form runes from the blood that would drain down into the metal grate in the center of the room. Up to eight prisoners could be mounted to the walls or racks at the same time. But there were only three prisoners. Sam, Kaylee, and Tom were strung up on the racks, hanging limp in varying degrees of despair.

Kaylee and Tom had both been bludgeoned. Dean recognized the contorted and swollen limbs as the broken bones below the surface. Bruises spread across their skin, some yellowed from age. If this had been real life, he was sure they'd have both died from their injuries.

Sam had been gouged away at, almost to the point of nonrecognition. Dean felt sick to his stomach, but there was also an unpleasant familiarity to the sight. He'd never seen Sam so badly mutilated before, yet he was sure the familiarity was something to do with Sam and not some previous victim. Strangely, it was almost the initial difficulty of identifying Sam that had triggered the feeling.

After a tiny shudder, blood began dripping from Sam's wounds and he gasped. Feebly he lifted his head to see Dean. He was looking at him with solid black eyes. Dean took a step back in horror while shaking his head.

"Dean…. Help." Sam's voice was weak and cracked in his parched throat, but Dean almost couldn't make out the words through the hissing and sputtering sounds that came from the exposed bits of punctured lung.

He wanted to go cut Sammy down, but as soon as he took a step forward he began to feel the presence again. That thing was still chasing him.

Dean's body was shaking as he realized that he was holding the sickle he'd used so often in Hell. He looked around the dungeon for an exit, but he didn't see one. Every interaction in Hell was pain and even though he was armed, he didn't want to meet his pursuer. He was cornered in that room, but there wasn't enough time to risk running back into the hallway. Hiding was his only option, but there were few options and the others were too injured for him to move.

He decided to cower behind one of the racks and hope that his pursuer would pass by the room. But Sam, Kaylee, and Tom suddenly began crying out in agony. He wanted to help them, but there wasn't enough time. The presence had almost found them. They were going to be found out—their screams and groans were too loud. If he could get them to stop, then maybe the presence wouldn't find him.

"You could be safe," said an overwhelming voice that shook Dean and almost spoke from within him. He looked down at the sickle, which was dripping with blood. "You would be safer without them."

Dean sat up in Tom's temporary bed. Salviel had given him some privacy, or maybe she'd just turned herself invisible. He was alone. Nothing was chasing him. Lifting his hands up, he relaxed at the discovery that there wasn't any blood on them.

Salviel appeared next to the bed. She was alarmed, but hadn't drawn either of her angel blades. "What happened?"

"I just had a nightmare. I get them every night. It's nothing."

* * *

 _April 13, 2011_

 _Sam was seated on his throne researching the history of the Arbris caste. They were one of the smallest castes by overall population, but they probably wielded the most power per capita within Hell. Every freshly broken soul was evaluated by an Arbris demon and assigned to their most appropriate caste… or at least that's how it was supposed to work._

 _The reality of the situation was less disciplined. Occasionally souls would be collected by archdemons even before they were broken. That had happened to Dean, who had been such a coveted commodity that Lilith had stolen his contract before it had even come due. And with the Pits currently half-held by Lilith's forces, at least half the new demons were beyond the reach of the Arbris, who dared not venture into hostile territory even to perform their vital charge. The result was that a disproportionate number of new demons were filling the ranks of the castes which supported Lilith, indoctrinated by archdemons eager to grow their own castes._

 _Within the allied Pits, there were a slightly smaller number of dungeons working the tender souls into demons, but they were operated by skeleton crews. Very few of the captured Torquean demons, who specialized in breaking souls, had switched allegiance. And while the Arbris understood the importance of restoring depleted ranks, they were forbidden from assigning castes against their best judgment just to meet a quota._

 _The need to adhere to custom and tradition somewhat hindered their ability to create a massive army, but it did produce a very content and loyal population. Early in his rule, Sam had suggested to his advisors the idea of eliminating the Luxia caste. The Luxia, led by Lilith, was the holy caste whose role was to act in service to Lucifer. While it would've been a rather bold statement to culturally and politically excommunicate Lilith's entire caste, it was eventually decided against. Aside from the fact that Sam had to keep up the facade of piety, the loss of an entire caste would likely be seen as a threat to all castes. And even though there was a large amount of resentment between the castes on both sides of the war, the respect for the institution itself was fundamental._

 _Since they couldn't dissolve a caste to reassign its demons and the Arbris had their hands bound by the standards of their own caste, there was a mere trickle of new demons replacing the ranks on Sam and Crowley's side. To the extent that any of those new demons belongs to castes whose archedemon was on Lilith's side, those new demons were assigned to a psuedo-archdemons. No one referred to the allied leaders of the otherwise enemy castes as archdemon. Despite the animosity toward Lilith or Alastair, for example, referring to their own leaders of the Luxia or Torquean castes as archdemon would be an insult to the democratic nature of the individual castes. Sam couldn't appoint an archdemon without suffering significant backlash and possibly having to quell a revolt._

 _When Lilith had initially drawn troops to Earth to begin her mission to break the seals, Crowley had managed to primarily use the labor of imprisoned demons. Ruby had been released under that policy decision, but she'd simply been returned to her own caste. Very few demons had actually crossed caste lines to substitute in for lost manpower. But with so many demons revolting, trying to temporarily reassign enough demons to fill the gaps would equally threaten the integrity of the caste system._

 _Traditions were almost everything in a place as old as Hell, so Sam decided to research the Arbris to see if there was any way to grow their populations within the castes with divided loyalties. Maybe if they could get the allied populations high enough to gain the majority, it might make the hostile members of that caste reconsider their loyalties. It was a system that at times barely made sense to a human, but demons had a very different relationship to the chain of command and allegiances—for better or worse._

 _The tome Sam was reading was absolutely fascinating, though he still had trouble understanding some uncommon words in Abyssal. Every once in awhile he'd need to look away from the pages to clear his mind before returning to the text. While reading about a particularly interesting passage about an Arbris being placed on trial for taking bribes roughly four thousand years ago, Sam's eyes lost focus. He felt the vision beginning._

 _This was one of the stronger ones—the ones that seemed to come on when he slept. But in Hell, he didn't sleep. For some reason this one was breaking through in spite of it. The hall was quiet, so he didn't fight the vision. Even with the whole Arbris matter at hand, there wasn't anything so urgent that it should've stopped him from letting the vision play out._

 _There was a beautiful forest, full of plants that he didn't recognize. The trees were massive and ancient, extending up to create tiered canopies of green, yellow, and blue leaves. Willowy branches hung, shedding silvery-white wisps that floated through the air. The bark of the trees came in every color imaginable. Vines and ferns cluttered the forest floor, but reached upward along the tree trunks. Nearly every vine and tree grew beautiful flowers that smelled divine. It was complete insanity, but it was the most breathtaking place he had ever seen._

 _In the distance he could see a woman walking alone through the forest. She was maybe in her twenties with dark eyes and tan skin. Her black unkempt hair reached below her hips, providing her only source of modesty. She was naked and unarmed, surrounded but the bizarre wilderness... but she wasn't afraid or even vulnerable—she was angry. Betrayal and rage seemed to radiate from her and it made Sam feel a little nauseous._

 _She knelt down to look at a small bird of some type that Sam couldn't identify. The bird was lying on the ground, sickly and weak. She picked it up, stroked its feathers gently, then snapped its neck. Her hand clutched the dead bird as she stood up and stared at a wilting flower on a nearby tree. The forest was dying, slowly, but inevitably. It was being poisoned by something._

 _Suddenly, the woman screamed. She dropped the dead bird as she fell to her knees and clasped her hands to her ears. At first Sam didn't understand what had happened, then he could hear it too. It was high-pitched and incredibly loud at first, but it quickly lowered into a more tolerable frequency._

 _"We can make it right. The way it was—better even." The voice was oppressive and Sam was amazed that the woman hadn't passed out from the assault on her senses. It was a struggle for him and he wasn't even the voice's target. "That rage inside of you, hold onto it. It will serve you well, Lilith."_

 _She finally fell to the ground unconscious. Sam felt a chill run through him. Somehow he knew that the voice had turned its attention to him. This wasn't like any vision he'd had before. He'd only ever observed events, nothing had ever reacted to him. But the voice was most definitely aware of him too._

 _Sam tried to snap himself out of the vision, but there was a strange resistance. Panic started to set in and even though most of his senses had been taken over by the vision, he could feel his body jerk with a start. He tried to stand up, thinking that physical activity might shake him out of the vision. For a split second the throne room blended seamlessly into the forest. Seizing the opportunity, he tried to take a step, but collapsed from the effort._

 _"Can you hear me, Sam?" the voice whispered in surprise._

 _When he opened his eyes, he was lying on grey stone floor of the throne room. He was on his side and his head was killing him. Mir and Shola knelt around him, checking to see if he was alright. He started to lift himself up, but stopped part way in shock. A few feet beyond Shola, he saw a tiny plant sprouting from the stone floor. Its diminutive green form stood out against the deathly grey background. He reached for it, but passed out._

* * *

 _"What's the significance of the pocket watch?" Cas asked from his perch on the corner of the bed._

 _"You're not supposed to know yet. Just take it at face value for now and try to enjoy the movie." Dean took a hit, then rolled over on the bed to pass the joint to Isa. She was sitting on a small mound of couch cushions that had been piled on the floor next to Dean's bed._

 _Dean had finally assembled his small entertainment system in his bedroom and was enthusiastically showing it off to Cas, Isa, and Flo. He'd been hoping to get Ruby and Aimé in on the first movie night, but his bedroom was on the small side. Instead it was just the four of them enjoying a few beers and whatever Isa had deemed to be a good intoxicant pairing with a spaghetti western. The television was only 28 inches, but considering it was the only television they had in the camp, no one was complaining._

 _Dean had initially resigned himself to sacrificing his entire closet to blu-ray storage, since they had no cable or satellite service to provide other sources of media, aside from a fairly slow magic-based internet connection. But Flo had managed to set Dean up with a terabyte hard drive full of pirated movies and television series. She had taken a lot of pleasure 'bringing Dean into the 21st century' by making a media server to host everything, though she hadn't yet networked the other cabins. As a result, Dean's bedroom was their temporary secret clubhouse/theater._

 _"Look at those beauties," Flo purred as she elbowed Dean's side to make sure his attention was drawn to the screen. She shared the bed with Dean, who was stretched out on the left side, and Cas, who sat at her feet. In the movie, one of the protagonists unveiled his collection of sophisticated firearms. Some of the guns were absurdly ornate, but the fantastic variety made her eyes glint._

 _"Van Cleef has the nice toys, but Eastwood can get by without it—that's a hell of a thing." Dean grinned over at Flo. "It's about being the kinda badass that can stare down a bad guy without anything but your will."_

 _"I've seen a lot in my years, but I've never seen will win a firefight," Flo countered._

 _"Did you even watch the first movie?" Dean asked with surprise._

 _"That was innovation." She waved off his implied point. "Score one for team tech."_

 _"Aren't you a witch? What the fuck do you mean that will doesn't win?"_

 _"Magic doesn't count as willpower; that stuff takes a lot of calculations. You should really take some lessons from Rubahnali," she suggested._

 _Everyone knew that Dean was the adult in the camp with the least experience spellcasting. He'd always left the magic stuff to Sam, then Cas had adopted that role when they had partnered up. At times it bothered him that he was the odd one out on that front, but he did have a different role than most. He was the best fighter once you leveled the playing field by striping away all the powers. When he and Cas were fighting humans or monsters Cas had the obvious advantage, but when Cas's powers didn't give him an edge against their enemy, Dean's experience was usually the deciding factor in the fight._

 _The idea of dabbling in magic felt like a trap to Dean. Over the years, he'd seen a lot of people become too dependant on using magic. In all honesty, he thought Sam was letting his basic combat skills fall by the wayside. Magic could be just as much a handicap as it could be a resource and he tried to remember that... though there might be some value in at least learning enough theory to lend a hand in a pinch._

 _There was a knock on the cabin door, then Bobby came in. He looked concerned, but wasn't moving quickly enough to be panicked._

 _"Dean, get up—"_

 _"Are we fighting or running?" Dean asked casually because he saw that Bobby wasn't armed._

 _"No."_

 _"Can it wait until after the movie?"_

 _"Sam's back." It was always a bad sign when Sam got back from Hell early. "He's not hurt bad or anything, but he looks something awful."_

 _Dean tried to get up off the bed in spite of the fact that his limbs were still a little too heavy from the two joints he'd worked through over the last hour. He pushed up on his elbow and meant to swing himself upright, but only succeeded in rolling onto Isa. She broke out in helpless giggles, while he hastily made sure he wasn't crushing or groping her._

 _"Cas, little help please," Dean requested._

 _Cas patiently walked around the bed and touched the back of Dean's head. Dean quickly climbed off Isa with his newfound sobriety, then rushed out of his cabin._

* * *

 _Sam was lying on the couch in his living room. He hadn't bothered to take off his shoes and he had only unbuttoned his jacket. Dean was actually surprised to see one of those long coats that Sam wore in Hell. Sam had stopped bringing them topside after Dean had jokingly called the design a dress. Dean had regretted the joke after Tom had immediately gone into the bathroom to take a bow out of his hair. He'd apologized and gave reassurances, which were well taken, but he noticed that Sam still left the jackets in Hell from then on. Something must've really spooked Sam if he hadn't stopped to change clothes before porting back home._

 _The scene itself was unnerving. There was a damp washcloth covering Sam's forehead and eyes. Ruby sat in a chair next to him, holding onto his closest wrist. Dean hoped it was just to provide comfort and not to monitor his pulse. Tom hovered in the doorway to his bedroom, holding Kaylee._

 _"What happened?" Dean asked as he entered the cabin, followed by Bobby and Cas._

 _"He had a vision or something. It knocked him out," Ruby explained._

 _"A vision? He's been good with those for over a year."_

 _"There was... something weird about it," Sam murmured._

 _"Hey, Cas." Ruby caught the angel's attention, then pulled the washcloth back from Sam's face slightly._

 _Sam cringed at the contact and Dean could see why. A nasty looking bruise was forming just above Sam's right temple._

 _Dean wasn't expecting that. "Since when do visions punch you in the face?"_

 _"Stone floors," Ruby replied. "He passed out while standing."_

 _"I'll tell Crowley to carpet the place," Sam joked, but his audible fatigue prevented everyone from smiling._

 _Cas softly touched the injury, which disappeared. Sam removed the washcloth, but didn't try to get up. He looked completely exhausted._

 _"So what literally mind-blowing news packs that big a punch?" Dean asked._

 _Sam chewed his lip while trying to remember. "I think there was a woman... maybe it was a bird," Sam said uncertainly. "Something was wrong."_

 _"Sure as hell seems that way," added Ruby as she examined the section of Sam's skull that had possibly had a fracture or two moments ago._

 _"And there was a sound…. It was so intense…." Sam frown at the memory of the sensation. "I think someone was talking to me."_

 _"Someone was talking in your vision?" Ruby suggested in an attempt to be helpful._

 _"No—maybe. I mean, I think they were trying to talk to me—like the real me." Everyone stared at him in confusion. "I've had dreams where I can interact with people, and maybe there's a little bit of foreshadowing, like an omen, but this felt different. Something was looking at me and it was real."_

 _"Something got into your vision?" Bobby asked._

 _"It didn't just get into it. I think it made it. I've never had a vision like this downstairs before and…." He hesitated. "That thing tried to keep me in the vision."_

 _"What?!" Dean paced in alarm. "What the fuck is even capable of something like that?"_

 _"There's a chance that it may have been your angel trying to contact you," Cas speculated. "On several occasions I spoke to this vessel, and it was considerably easier while he was asleep. Your vision state might be a comparable level of consciousness or even be more accessible…." Cas trailed off and scowled slightly._

 _"I'm sensing a 'but,'" Ruby said._

 _"But your angel shouldn't have hurt you. We never intentionally harm our vessels. Even with Heaven attempting to kill you, I'd expect your angel to recuse itself from any violence. It may have been an accident that you were harmed. Some sort of reaction to your Abyssal nature."_

 _"Like an angel allergy?" Dean analogized._

 _"I don't know about the whole angel idea." Sam looked up at Cas skeptically. "We're pretty warded up against angels downstairs. I don't understand how the signal could get through."_

 _"Could you hit up your heavenly turncoats to see if they know who might be doing this?" Ruby asked Cas._

 _"There isn't a way to investigate an angel's bloodline discreetly," Cas replied apologetically. "It would be incredibly dangerous if they were caught, and we don't even know that this really is the work of an angel."_

 _"So what do we do next?" Sam asked as he ran his fingers through his hair._

 _"If it happens again, I suggest you ask what it wants."_

* * *

 _April 15, 2011_

 _Dean was standing in the middle of a tranquil meadow, untouched by man or beast… until now. The grassland was littered with hundreds of crumpled bodies. Each was beautiful and timeless and he knew that each one was someone he loved…. But at the same time he didn't recognize any of their faces. None of them were supposed to die, ever... yet their wings had scorched the soil._

 _Cold sweat dripped down his back as he realized he was in a killing field of angels. He looked around in a panic for Cas. His hands trembled as he rolled over bodies, hoping that none of them contained those bright blue eyes. A strange heat prickling the back of his neck and at first he mistook it for adrenaline. But it was beyond warmth. It was hatred... but it wasn't his. There was something else there that was watching him and the creature was seething._

 _Dean stood up and spun around, trying to see the thing that he'd sensed. Instead of the meadow, a graveyard extended before him. An endless number of headstones reached back to some far away time and place. Slightly apart from the rest were two headstones before open graves. He moved closer to try to read the two headstones, but one's surface had been gouged, obscuring the name._

 _Suddenly, there was an overwhelming howling sound that reverberated in his core. Dean fell to his knees and covered his ears. He felt like he was screaming in pain, but the sound was too loud for him to be sure of his own voice. His ears may have started bleeding—he wasn't about to remove his hands to check. The strange sound wavered, eventually almost sounding like words._

 _"Dean, where are you?" it asked. "It's almost time."_

 _He woke up in his own bed to find Cas standing over him looking concerned. His body was covered in sweat and he was shaking. A second later, Bobby and Flo ran into his cabin. Bobby looked like he'd stopped halfway through brushing his teeth and held a shotgun. Flo's long hair frizzed out chaotically, unbound by her normal wrap. She was wearing a small periwinkle nightgown, and had her Desert Eagle in hand. Everyone stared at Dean expectantly, but he didn't understand what they were waiting for._

 _"What's going on?" Bobby asked, looking around for a threat._

 _"I don't know." Dean tried to sit up, but his head hurt and he felt faint. He rubbed the heels of his palms over his eyes to create a different sensation than the sharp pain that pulsed in his skull._

 _"You were screaming in your sleep," Cas explained._

 _Dean lowered his hands so that he could confirm the serious expression in Cas's face. He'd had a lot of rough nights, but he was pretty sure that he'd never screamed._

 _"Screaming is a bit of an understatement." Bobby's posture relaxed slightly at the realization that he probably wasn't going to have to shoot anything, though he was far from okay with the situation. "I think you woke the whole camp up."_

 _"Speaking of, I'm going to let the others know it's ok," Flo said as she put the safety back on her pistol, then left the room._

 _"This was worse than your normal nightmares," Cas observed. "Do you remember anything about what happened?"_

 _"There was death…. Something was angry—and a loud noise, but I could've sworn it was talking to me." Dean's eyes widened as he tried to sit up despite the headache._

 _Bobby raised a eyebrow. "You mean like Sam?"_

 _"Both of you having these dreams or visions within a day of each other does indicate that your angel might be trying to contact you. It may have decided to try you after failing to communicate with Sam," Cas suggested. "Do you know what it was trying to say?"_

 _"It... it asked where I was."_

 _The creature was looking for him… or them. Dean heart was pounding and he swayed a little as he stared at nothing. Cas gripped his shoulder to help stabilize him._

 _"Did you tell it?" Bobby asked with audible concern._

 _"No—no!" Dean shook his head, then looked to Cas. "Cas woke me up."_

 _"If that thing is an angel, could it find us through Dean and Sam?" Bobby asked Cas, who thought for an ominously long time._

 _"We'll need more warding."_

* * *

 _Dean didn't go back to sleep. Instead he drank almost an entire carafe of coffee while watching Cas and Ruby discuss possible designs for a ward to block the vessel-angel link. Sam had looked surprisingly cheerful when he got home a few hours later. He entered the cabin with a small, black porcelain cup containing a baby plant, but it was quickly set aside at the news that an angel might be trying to locate them. Sam tried to offered whatever input he could in the design process, but Cas and Ruby were the clear experts._

 _"If we put this type of warding on the skin it'll fade after a few years—and not just switching off one day. It'll weaken over time and your feathery friend will start getting bigger and bigger peeks in," Ruby pointed out as she tapped her pen on the table._

 _"I can inscribe bone," Cas suggested, causing Ruby to nod thoughtfully._

 _"You mean like cutting up our bones?" Dean asked. "Awesome."_

 _"It'll be quite painful," Cas confessed, causing Dean and Sam to glance at each other unenthusiastically. "But the pain should pass after a few minutes."_

 _"I think we can fit the warding on three vertebrae," Ruby speculated while flipping through her fifteen pages of sketches and notes._

 _"The length of a femur might offer an easier surface area," Cas countered._

 _"Yeah, but the alignment on the spine—" Ruby began, but was interrupted by the sound of Kaylee crying in the nursery._

 _"I got it. You keep designing," Sam said as he got up from his seat. He squeezed Ruby's shoulder as he left the room._

 _"If a warded bone gets broken are we fair game? If so, you might want to avoid limbs," Dean pointed out._

 _"That could be a problem," Cas admitted._

 _"I'm just saying. I've had a lot of broken bones, but never the back. It might be safer that way."_

 _Sam came back into the living room carrying Kaylee. She was wearing purple, frog-covered pajamas and was crying quietly. One small hand clutched Sam's shirt while the other held her head. Her eyes were clenched in pain and she pressed her forehead against Sam's chest._

 _"Guys." Sam gently patted her back, trying to sooth her. "I think we have a problem."_

 _"No fucking way," Dean exhaled._

 _"Cas." Ruby accidentally snapped her pen in half, then continued, "We finish these wards and then you're gonna start beating the bushes because I'm gonna fucking kill that angel."_


	48. The Human Element

"Is it safe to come in?" Tom asked as he knocked on the door to the tiny room while cracking it slightly.

"Sure," Dean answered while he finished making the bed. He wasn't sure whether Tom would be using the room going forward, but it was the least he could do to try to show his gratitude.

Tom was wearing the black t-shirt that he'd been so attached to and his tan jacket, but aside from that he was only wearing an old white cotton bedsheet that acted as an improvised sarong.

"Unlike you, I'm actually wearing pants," Dean observed. He sat down on the bed in order to give Tom some space to move around in the room.

"Yeah." Tom grabbed one of the bundles of clothes and started unwrapping it. "It was worth losing the pants though."

"Sneaking back to the motel room at dawn trying to find some pants. You sound like your uncle."

Tom froze in the middle of sorting through the clothing. He turned and looked down at Dean with a slightly embarrassed expression.

"How'd you figure it out?"

"I asked Salviel what the deal was between you and Kaylee." Dean pulled his legs closer to his torso, providing some room on the bed for Tom to sit down. "So is that why you're staying in this four-star resort?"

He waved a hand at the cramped living quarters and the fact that Tom had only bothered to bring two changes of clothes. There weren't any magical components or personal belongings. He'd heard of light travelers, but this was on par with grabbing a coat as you ran out the door.

"Kaylee called me in to help I.D. you," Tom explained. "Both since I've known Dean longer than anyone else that was free and because I could run the full spectrums of tests for an N.H.N. or other imposter…. And I suppose she wanted to keep it in the family, so to speak."

"So what, you didn't want to freak me out by telling me?" Dean guessed.

"A little, but honestly," he cringed apologetically "you aren't the only one that's thrown by this whole thing. It's a lot to process. Kaylee's taking it pretty well—I think—but you at least had heard of her before you got here. I mean, if you met Bobby when he was in his thirties…. How do you even begin to explain that kind of relationship?"

Dean paused to think about whether he'd really divulge his identity and relationship to a younger Bobby. It'd be cool to get to know Bobby better, but bringing in the emotional baggage and questions was a bit daunting. Being the one out of the loop currently, Dean felt a little hypocritical for considering withholding the information from the hypothetical Bobby, but keeping the relationship hidden had been his initial instinct.

"I like to think I would've told you," Tom added with a small shrug. "But I just wanted to figure out the right time and way of explaining."

"I can understand that." Dean allowed Tom the out.

Keeping secrets had been a recurring theme in Dean's relationships, and while he had been pissed off at Sam for it, he understood the impulse. Mostly he was upset about repeat offenders. Tom barely knew him, the younger Dean, so there was an understandably smaller expectation of trust than there had been with Sam. Sam's secrets about Ruby and his Abyssal nature had chipped away at an established relationship, but Tom was just conflicted while trying to build a new relationship.

Dean realized that Tom had analogized the other Dean as being on par with Bobby. He thought back to his memories of Bobby, and the ones that stood out in his mind the most were all the little secret non-hunter outings as a child. Despite only seeing him a few times a year, Bobby had been an important part of Sam's and his upbringing. Had that been the parallel that Tom had intended?

"Was I—the other Dean around much when you were growing up?" He felt strange getting so personal, and yet it wasn't exactly personal for himself. It was the relationship with the other Dean they were talking about, but it was still connected to him. The other Dean was feeling more and more like a shadow that was following him around.

"Definitely. For years, Dean had a cabin a few doors down from us at the camp. He used to hunt with Cas for a few weeks at a time, but he'd swing through for a few days or a week. Never missed a birthday or big holiday or anything. He always had the best stories." Tom smiled at a memory, then sat down on the foot of the bed. "He's actually why I got into hunting a little."

"You're a hunter?"

"Yes and no. I know my way around weapons and the lore, but these days nobody's really hunting anymore. You get your adrenaline and sense of service on the battlefield, but when I was a teenager I went on a few random hunts with Dean." Tom laughed. "Actually, my first hunt we didn't tell anyone. I'd been bugging him for years, so he eventually snuck me out to burn some bones. Dad was pretty mad when he found out…. You probably shouldn't try taking Kaylee or me hunting unless you want a black eye and the silent treatment for about a month."

"Sam was that against you hunting?"

He could see Sam not wanting Kaylee potentially being around other hunters, but Tom was human…. Granted he was a witch, but the other hunters didn't need to know that.

"I think it was more just the fact that I'd taken another step down a path he didn't want for me." Tom sighed, then said, "He's such a pacifist. He didn't want us kids to get into the life no matter what form—but we don't always get what we want."

Sam sounded like almost the opposite of their father, which made sense in a weird way. They were both stubborn as hell, but John had chased violence while Sam had largely avoided it. It seemed that Dean had been Sam's mild foil in the same way that Bobby had been John's. Dean had offered a taste of the hunter life, while for him Bobby had offered a fleeting escape from it.

Dean wondered where Bobby had come down on the subject of Tom hunting—if he'd even had the opportunity to face the question. Kaylee had said that Bobby had died, but he hadn't found out when. For all he knew Bobby could've died back in 2009 and they didn't know much of anything about him. What if he'd died of a heart attack or something that couldn't be avoided? But Kaylee had said he went out fighting, so maybe there was hope that he could prevent it when he got back. One more thing to add to the growing list.

"How did Bobby die?" Dean was torn between uncomfortably looking away from Tom and watching him like a hawk. His eyes flicked at the witch. Tom let out a slow, pained breath…. Bobby must've meant something to them after all.

After a slight hesitation, Tom asked, "Gory details or just who did it?"

"It was a fight, right?"

"Yeah." Tom dragged out the word weakly. He wasn't exactly resisting the discussion, but it was obviously a wound that hadn't fully healed.

Maybe Dean could spare Tom the pain and catch the play-by-play from someone else? Not Kaylee, she'd probably be in a similar boat to Tom. They'd mentioned him eventually meeting the other him or Sam—Cas would almost certainly be easier to get a clinical answer from. The angel would've been an ally for many years, but he wasn't family to Bobby, like the rest of them. He'd save the details for later... but in terms of the basics, he was dying to know which side had earned even more of his hatred.

"What got him?" Dean asked. "Demons? Angels?"

"Humans."

* * *

 _6/10/2012_

 _"You aren't going to have a burger?"_

 _Dean pointed to the chalkboard sign near the diner's entrance as he explained his choice. "The sign said they have good chili dogs, so I figure I'll try what they're pushing."_

 _Cas looked around and furrowed his brow. "Did you hear something?"_

 _"No." Dean scowled briefly as he compulsively ran his fingers through his hair to puff it up a bit on the sides. "What?"_

 _"I'm not sure... never mind." Cas returned his attention to the conversation. "I just thought that you don't like hot dogs."_

 _"It's not that I don't like hot dogs. I just prefer burgers."_

 _Cas was getting a better grasp of aesthetic pleasures and preferences, but he hadn't yet figured out the importance of variety. It had been like pulling teeth trying to get him to even change his tie occasionally—and it's not like it was a drastic change; all three of Cas's ties were blue. But the lightest shade had been deemed the favorite and why should he settle for less?_

 _"Could you have a chili burger?"_

 _"Cas, first of all you don't have to try to solve all my problems. Secondly, a chili dog is far from a problem—until maybe an hour or two later. Third, chili dogs are a traditional food, but I've never heard of a chili burger before. Listen, maybe you should try a bite, otherwise you aren't fully appreciating the cultural phenomenon."_

 _"It seemed... intense."_

 _Right on cue, the waitress dropped off their meals._

 _"Have you ever even tried anything spicy?" Dean asked Cas as he picked a few pieces of chopped onion off the top of his chili dog in order to reach a preferred ratio._

 _Cas cautiously eyed the sloppy pile of meat and starch from the other side of the booth. "No. The concept isn't appealing. We experience enough pain without seeking it out in our free time. It's only going to be made worse—"_

 _The sound of a glass breaking on the floor drew their attention. At first they both gave it little more thought than any of the other times that a server had accidentally dropped something, then they noticed why she had dropped it. The waitress stood completely still, staring up at a small wall-mounted television. Three other patrons had stopped eating and were watching the screen. The waitress scrambled to pull her cell phone from her pocket, then ran into the back._

 _The television showed breaking news: live shots from a helicopter, circling a fire in some city. At first it was hard to tell the scale of the fire, but as the camera zoomed out it was clear that at least three city blocks were consumed._

 _Dean climbed out of the booth and walked closer to the television. The news anchor was mostly stating disbelief at the footage, but the ticker at the bottom of the screen was more helpful. An explosion had occurred moments ago in downtown Indianapolis. Aside from several buildings that appeared to have been leveled in the blast, most of the area had simply ignited in a massive fireball. First responders were on route, but the sheer scale of the crisis was probably beyond their ability to contain anytime soon._

 _"Dean."_

 _He turned back to look at Cas and saw what the angel had wanted to bring to his attention. Out the window next their booth, on the horizon, a small plume of smoke was rising. Dean glanced between the news report and the window. The diner was about 15 miles west of the fire._

 _"Cas, is there anything you can do?"_

 _As much as Dean wanted to do something to help, he was just one guy against an inferno. Even with all his training and skills, he'd still be just a man running into smoke and flame without equipment. Cas didn't need to breathe and could teleport victims to safety, but he would invariably put Dean's wellbeing first and would just be stuck aiding Dean if he insisted on going too. Dean would have to sit out this round of action._

 _"I'll try."_

 _Before Cas could teleport away, Dean grabbed his arm._

 _"Don't end up on TV."_

* * *

 _"I'm looking for some witnesses to a huge explosion in Indianapolis." Dean glanced around the diner's parking lot to make sure that nobody was eavesdropping on his phone call to Sam. Luckily, everyone seemed to be riveted to the television inside. The view of the burning city from the parking lot was unobstructed, but nowhere near as detailed as the live news coverage._

 _"Something special about it?" Sam asked._

 _"This thing is big, like—" Dean looked at the television through one of the diner's windows. "It just jumped a river. I'm thinking maybe one of the seals? You might have one of Lilith's meatsuits or something headed your way."_

 _"How long ago did it happen?"_

 _"About ten minutes."_

 _Dean could hear Sam sigh on the other end on the line. Him not living up to Hell's standards of timeliness had been a common point of frustration for his little brother. The combination of the time conversion and Hell involving so many moving parts made punctuality a big deal to the bureaucrats downstairs, among whom Sam was definitely counted._

 _"I'm going to need some time to work on this," Sam told him unenthusiastically. "With that big a window, anyone who died in the explosion itself would already be going through the system, past where the queue fades away. There are probably at least 200,000 souls down in that part of the pool, so it'll take awhile on our end—and that's assuming they haven't trickled into Lilith's territory. But I'll try to see if I can find you any accounts of what happened."_

 _"Let me know if we can help." Dean didn't understand the system, but even simply providing information was better than watching helplessly._

 _"I'll call you back."_

 _He sat down on the hood of the Impala to watch the smoke plume from his vantage point in the diner parking lot. The world had been getting scary lately and there was so little he could do about it. It seemed like every day there was some new horrible thing on the news. There was no pattern or reason beyond the guess that maybe Lilith was involved. But they couldn't all be seals—they would have hit sixty-five by now if that was the case, wouldn't they? It sure as hell felt like it._

 _Sam had his demons hunting hers and he tried to keep it precise and quiet, yet it didn't always go down that way. The hanged man staging and sigil carvings had started turning up in the news as early as spring 2010. The media had called it a new craze in gangland style killings, which not-so-ironically is exactly what it became... for awhile. Civilian gangs caught wind of the style, but didn't understand the significance. So eventually when a group of Bloods left fifteen Crips strung up and carved in Woodlawn it caught a lot of attention. Most notable among its audience was Lilith, who responded to the perceived insult by killing a hundred Bloods. Within a week, rock salt was sold out in every major store in Los Angeles, Chicago, Oakland, and New York City. It was a new wave of—well, hunter wasn't exactly the right terms. Supernaturally aware, maybe?_

 _Dean told himself it was better this way, even if it wasn't perfect. Let the big cities start to open their minds a little more. With everything slowly going sideways they'd need whatever help they could get. If only the vanguards weren't a handful of aging hunters and career criminals. One of Dean's hunter buddies from the Los Angeles area had said that the local cops mistook a devil's trap for Santería. It would have been funny if it wasn't so depressing._

 _He leaned back against the windshield, then pulled out a joint. After taking one puff while watching the city burn in the distance, he eyed the cigarette. Raising it up to the horizon, the plume of smoke in the distance looked like it was coming off the joint. The realization that he was becoming jaded washed over him, then he took another hit. When his cell started ring, he put out the blunt on his belt buckle, then flicked it down the hill toward Indianapolis._

 _Sam didn't bother with any lead-in. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't Lilith."_

 _"How do you figure that?"_

 _"We found the human that did it." Sam didn't sound particularly surprised, though he probably had acquired his own jadedness from Hell—almost certainly about the moral character of humans._

 _"It was a human?" Dean asked, blindsided by the news._

 _"Looks that way. He's not what I'd call sane."_

 _"No kidding. You haven't seen the damage. It's something else. I'm almost glad it's just some crazy person."_

 _"Yeah, well, it might not be that simple. When you mentioned that you thought Lilith might be in on it I started a team going through our records. In the last month we've had about 126,000 souls of confirmed killers. When you take off all the war vets and manslaughter, we're looking at closer to 8,000. We've been going through that pool and we found…." Dean could hear Sam flipping through some papers and murmuring as he did some quick calculations. "There are 1,687 with a questionable mental state."_

 _"You just threw out like 6,500 murderers because they didn't qualify as having a 'questionable mental state'? Maybe you guys need to redo your definition of insanity."_

 _"Most of our hunters fall into that 6,500 category."_

 _"All the more reason to expand your definition of insanity," Dean commented, making Sam chuckle. The sound of his brother laughing made him smile a little in spite of everything. "So give it to me straight: what's the bad news?"_

 _"Thirty-two of those, including the guy that did this, used the same red-flagged online forum. That's a pretty big coincidence for one month."_

 _"Red-flagged?"_

 _"We monitor thousands of websites for various reasons: security, recruiting, etcetera," Sam explained. "This forum was for eschatological—end of the world—fanatics and survivalists. Lots of talk about the coming apocalypse."_

 _Dean furrowed his brow and glanced around the still-empty parking lot. "You think they know about the way things're going?"_

 _"I can't tell if they actually know or that they just think they know," Sam replied. "It's hard to get a straight answer out of those kind of people, especially when they find out there really is a Hell and they made the cut."_

 _"Any themes?" Dean rubbed his neck._

 _He wasn't even sure if this was his game. They were human after all—and not even witches or anything as far as he could tell. These guys were more a job for the police—granted, the police couldn't do a headcount on the souls of recently deceased murders in order to spot trends. Hell had the perk of inventorying all transgressions that burdened each soul whether the human's acts had been discovered or not. Human intel was limited to things like physical evidence, which was only ever helpful to the extent that it was found and compiled._

 _"They like to attack the weak and the institutions. Watch the world burn—so to speak."_

 _"That explains why they bombed a good chunk of downtown Indianapolis."_

 _"Two things: it wasn't 'they,'" Sam corrected. "This guy was working solo as far as we can tell. There doesn't seem to be any chain of command, just lots of goading. Also, it wasn't a bomb. It was a natural gas pipeline explosion. The guy worked for the utility company."_

 _"Are you fucking serious? So, some guy just lets loose a couple valves and a hundred people go up in flames?"_

 _"More than that. We've already got 310 fatalities and that's just Hell's tally."_

 _"And the fucking thing's still going." Dean leaned his head back against the windshield and looked at the clear blue sky turning hazy with smoke. "How're the civies gonna handle this?"_

 _"I'll see if we can tip off some of our assets in strategic places," Sam volunteered. "I'm not sure how much they can get done without giving up their source. They'd probably get laughed out of whatever power they have if they said the Devil told them."_

 _"Yeah. I'll try to spread the word to the hunting community, but we'll be facing a similar problem if anyone asks for sources."_

 _"I doubt hunters are going to just laugh off having Hell as a resource."_

* * *

 _11/16/2012_

 _"Dean? Is that you?"_

 _Dean and Cas both turned around to see that the man they'd just passed on the sidewalk had stopped. The guy was in his forties with a greying beard that clashed with his still mostly dark brown hair. He wore a denim jacket over a plaid green shirt, and cowboy boots. When he saw Dean's face he held out his arms in a surprised greeting that bordered on an invitation for a hug._

 _"Kent?" Dean laughed and excitedly accepted the hug. "Holy crap, man. How long has it been?"_

 _"Seven—maybe eight years."_

 _"I'm glad to see you still up and kicking." Dean shoved Kent's shoulder playfully, then turned his body more to bring Cas into the conversation. "This is Cas, my partner."_

 _Cas smiled with a warmth that the angel sometimes forgot to adopt when meeting new people. "It's nice to meet you."_

 _"Likewise. You two wanna come over to my place for a quick beer? I'm just down the street."_

 _"Of course," Dean replied. "You still owe me like a hundred beers."_

 _"But who's counting?" Kent added as he started walking them to his house._

 _Kent's two-bedroom bungalow was exactly what Dean had expected. The living room walls were covered in posters for John Wayne movies and the furniture was all faded leather and knotted wood. The kitchen looked almost untouched except for the '70s-era fridge that was partially held together with duct tape. Kent grabbed three beers from the fridge, handed them to Dean, then turned on a second-hand CD player before taking a seat on the couch._

 _"I don't keep your big hair rock," Kent teased. "You'll have to settle for the Man in Black."_

 _"Johnny Cash is fine by me. My dad used to listen to him." Dean opened his beer and took a sip, but Kent hesitated before taking his first sip._

 _He sighed while shaking his head. "I'm sorry about your pop. He was a great." Kent raised his beer in a half toast, then drank._

 _"Thanks, man." Dean wasn't sure whether Kent had ever actually met John, but early in their friendship Kent had loved hearing stories about the then-living legend. "He did a lot of good while he could, but you know how it goes in this line of work."_

 _"Yeah…." Kent hesitated for a moment, then quietly said, "I heard about your brother."_

 _"What'd you hear?" Dean asked as his sipped his beer._

 _There were several rumors about Sam floating around, each iteration traveling within its own clique of hunters. Half wrote Sam off as dead and half portrayed him as some sort of turncoat. Kent's sympathetic tone seemed to lean slightly toward the former._

 _"Some big bad... took him." The corner of Kent's mouth turned downward as he decided to drop the sore subject._

 _'Took' probably alluded to one of the possession rumors, which meant that someone upstream had reason to believe Sam hadn't died uneventfully or retired. Knowing the areas Kent liked to hunt in, it was probably the rumor that had cropped up in the Virginia region. Some garbled retelling of the busted Devil's Gate mixed with that old North Carolinian antichrist rumor._

 _The 'big bad' rumors always proved to be a dilemma for Dean. He wanted to defend his brother, to try to explain that the situation wasn't as harsh as it seemed, but the truth of the matter sounded so insane that it was dangerous. He never wanted to feed the perception that Sam was something sinister, so he tried to say as little as possible on the subject. For the most part, no one dared ask him about Sam for fear of bringing up painful memories._

 _As much as Dean wanted to mitigate the number of people trying to kill Sam, at least it wasn't like he was easy to find or kill. Sam was warded in every way imaginable. At that point, he almost never left the camp while topside without at least one knight as a bodyguard. And even if someone wanted to bring the fight to him, the second a living human crossed a gate into Hell they'd be on his radar—not to mention his telekinesis and the First Light power. Against some run-of-the-mill hunters, Sam would be fine._

 _It was everyone in Sam's orbit that Dean was more worried about. But none of the rumors mentioned him having kids or that Sam might still interact with Dean and Bobby. The intel that the hunters had gleaned through torturing demons before exorcism had so far only betrayed Sam's presence and prominence in Hell. None of the hunters had yet thought to investigate his personal life—why would the Devil have one?_

 _Cas mercifully broke the silence while changing the subject. "Kent, how long have you known Dean?"_

 _"I guess it must be about 13 years."_

 _"Since '99—was it Johnson City? That was a hell of a weekend." Dean smiled as he started the tale. "I thought it was an acheri demon for sure, so I was setting up this trap—"_

 _"Wait. You were making a trap in that house? I could never figure out why you had that paint all over your pants." Kent began laughing so hard that his eyes watered slightly._

 _"Well, yeah," Dean confirmed. "I was putting down the traps on the first floor and this guy somehow managed to get upstairs without me noticing."_

 _"It wasn't that hard—fuck, I didn't even know you were there."_

 _"Well, I'm like halfway through the trap—acheri need extra runes," Dean added for Cas' benefit. "When I hear this noise above me. I'm thinking it's the acheri coming straight down on me, so I decide to spray a little salt in the general direction."_

 _"I'm upstairs looking around and I step on a weak floorboard," Kent continued. "It buckles a bit, because it's got this giant wardrobe on in, so I try to dive out of the way. But some genius unloads a pair of shells into the floor right under me."_

 _"I'm telling you, it would've come down either way." Dean sipped his beer. "They were just salt shells."_

 _"Anyway, half the room and I fall through the floor. After the dust clears, I look up to see this guy." He pointed at Dean. "His legs are covered in blue paint, his top half covered in a Persian rug—he can't see shit, but he's already reloading."_

 _"The ass got ripped out of your pants." Dean grinned, serving the embarrassment back to Kent._

 _"Yeah, I'm lucky that's the only thing that got ripped out of my pants," Kent muttered. "So we're sittin' there gawking at each other and the monster shows up."_

 _"It wasn't even an acheri. It was a specter. Neither of us were packing silver, so we both just ran for it." Dean was gesturing emphatically to help convey the action. "Now, you know me, I'd never leave Baby except in an emergency, but I'm covered in wet paint. So I jump in the back of Kent's pick-up truck as he's hauling ass out of there."_

 _"And that's how this asshole owed me a paint job before I even knew his name."_

 _"I made good," Dean said in his defense as he finished his beer._

 _"You shorted the detailer $500!"_

 _"Him being lousy at pool isn't my fault." Dean shrugged a little to cover his pride, then looked around the room. "You have a bathroom around here I could use?"_

 _"Yeah, down the hall on the right."_

 _Dean walked down the hallway, admiring the collection of photographs on the walls. Many of the photos were of Kent with other hunters. A few even had him holding relics from hunts. Thank god Kent wasn't the type to try to snap a pic next to a beheaded vamp corpse or the like. The guy was tacky, but not that tacky._

 _The first door on the right wasn't the bathroom; it was a standard hunter's workshop. A small workbench held an ammunition press and other tools of the trade. One of the walls was covered with newspaper clippings, another telltale sign of a hunter. There was a large weapons safe stood in the corner. Next to the safe was a pile of random clothing and equipment._

 _Dean took in the room at a glance and almost kept walking, until he saw the vest. Doing a double take, he looked back into the workshop. On top of the pile of clothes and equipment was a bulletproof vest. Shootouts were rare for a hunter, but not completely unheard of. Yet that hadn't been the thing that drew Dean's attention. The vest had been painted white with a stylized red cross on its chest. He'd seen that somewhere before and the vague recollection gave him chills._

 _Taking a slower look around the workshop, he noticed details he'd missed during his quick glance. The bullet and shell-packing station didn't have salt or silver at it. The newspaper clippings weren't about missing persons or strange happenings. They were about shootings, bombings, a few assassinations... and on one side of the board was a calendar of upcoming events._

 _Dean's heart started pounding. He wasn't sure what that all meant, but it wasn't good. He clicked off the safety on his pistol, then lowered the gun slightly behind him._

* * *

 _"Don't move," Dean said as he reentered the room and drew the pistol on Kent._

 _"Dean, what's going on?" Cas asked in alarm, but Kent didn't look particularly surprised._

 _The hunter slowly put down his beer bottle and raised his hands._

 _"He's got a fucking arsenal in the other room," Dean replied._

 _Cas was confused by why that was different than any other hunter, but the tension on Dean's face made it clear that something was very wrong._

 _"Dean, buddy. I can explain," Kent told him. "I was going to tell you—it's actually a good thing."_

 _"I find that pretty fucking hard to believe."_

 _"Yeah, you probably will. Most people do." Kent smiled briefly at some memory. "Angels are real."_

 _Cas and Dean exchanged a quick glance, but Dean's pistol remained fixed on Kent. To his credit, Kent didn't try to take advantage of Dean's temporary distraction._

 _"I know it sounds crazy, but an angel spoke to me," Kent continued. "They need our help. There's a war coming and if we win, then Earth—it'll be paradise. Think about it: no more monsters or ghosts. We don't need to be turning over rocks trying to find the filth for the rest of our lives."_

 _Dean had heard of crazy people hearing voices, but Kent had always been an incredibly stable guy. All the stress of the job had rolled off of Kent in a way that Dean had emulated when he was younger. It was hard to imagine that one day Kent would just snap… and to snap so accurately was a coincidence that just didn't happen. There were a lot more doomsday theories floating around in the mainstream than even just a few months earlier, but hunters generally did their homework. Kent wouldn't be easily convinced without evidence._

 _Cas gave Dean a meaningful look, indicating that he was probably reaching a similar conclusion. If Kent really had been visited by an angel, then he and Cas would need to tread softly. The two of them were members of Heaven's most wanted and they could be sitting in the living room of an agent of Heaven. Disclosing that Cas was an angel might help their credibility with Kent, but if they couldn't talk him down, how would the hunter fail to report a run-in with a fallen angel?_

 _As much as being there may have put them in danger, Kent had somehow gotten himself into some kind of arrangement that Dean needed to understand. There might be a new threat out there and it seemed to have pulled in his friend. He could probably leave with Cas, and port away to safety without Kent accidentally or intentionally giving up their location, but he couldn't turn his back on the situation._

 _He thought back to the seemingly endless news reports of the violence and destruction that had cropped up in the last year. They'd written it off as exclusively Lilith… until they'd discovered the end-of-days mob. But the wall of newspaper clippings weren't just the collection of an investigator or even an admirer. There had been calendars. Something was going to happen, maybe something already had. He felt a little faint._

 _"What did they ask you to do?" Dean asked._

 _"There's all the normal hunting—monsters, demons, witches," Kent evaded. "But there are some other kinds of threats—"_

 _"Threats? You mean humans?"_

 _"Yes." To Dean's limited relief, Kent's voice seemed to at least betray some discomfort with the turn in the conversation. "Some humans are trying to stop us."_

 _"So you blow up a fucking train station?!" Dean snapped at him._

 _That was one of the prominent clippings, ominously pinned right next to a printout of the track assignments for the week leading up to the attack._

 _"I didn't." Kent flustered a little, but recovered. "We're doing what needs to be done. The job is hard sometimes—you know that better than anyone! It sucks and we suffer—we lose people and we have to make the hard choices, but we do it because it's the right thing to do."_

 _"I don't know what you've been told, but this isn't right." Dean licked his lips and his arms lowered a few millimeters from sheer disappointment. It was painful to see a friend so turned around by the entire situation._

 _"This is just the next logical step. We're still fighting evil, but now we've got support and real guidance. We don't have to be running around in the dark anymore. We can win this thing."_

 _"It's not about fighting evil," Dean countered. "It's about protecting people."_

 _"This is protecting them. There's a big picture here!" Kent threw his hands up in exasperation. "You've been dealing with the little picture for so long—we all have been. But you can't focus on that. Of course it's gonna be messy so close to the ground. It always is—"_

 _"But you're talking about killing people! This isn't 'messy.' It's dead innocent people!" Dean yelled in desperation to get through to him._

 _Kent shook his head, then said, "How do you know they're innocent?"_

 _Dean's heart sank. How was he supposed to argue with that?_

 _"You're not working alone." Cas's voice was quieted by the slow, alarming realization._

 _Dean's eyes widened and he raised his gun a little more as he took on a more professional posture. "Kent, who else is doing this?" he pleaded, but Kent didn't answer. "Please, man. I'm begging you to talk to me."_

 _"I'm talking, but you've got to listen to me. I know this is a lot to process at first, but you don't understand what an opportunity this is—just hear them out, please." Kent closed his eyes and began lowering his head._

 _Cas realized a second too late what he was doing and reached out to stop him from beginning his prayer._

 _Dean fired twice._

 _He sat down on the leather recliner and rested his elbows on his knees. After placing his pistol on the coffee table, Dean buried his face in his hands. Cas stood up from the couch and slowly walked over to Dean, giving Kent's body a wide berth. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder._

 _"He didn't successfully begin the prayer, but we should still go."_

 _Dean looked through his fingers at Kent, then up at Cas._

 _"Cas, what's going on?"_


	49. A Deal With the Devil

"Humans killed Bobby?"

Dean was stunned. It was incredibly unusual for hunters to be killed by humans—though this place was anything but usual. There was a war going on and maybe that meant more violence in the world generally, but he still couldn't quite process the great hunter being killed by anything less than a vicious monster.

"Templars, to be specific," Tom said in an attempt to bring clarity, but he only succeeded in confusing Dean more.

"The old guys from the third Indiana Jones movie?"

Tom pursed his lips at Dean's question, caught between amusement and loathing. "I wish. Templars are…." He scowled reflexively at the thought of them.

"They're human servants of Heaven," Dylaniel said as he opened the door to the room. He was back in his light grey armored clothing and armed with his pistols and sword. He gestured for Tom and Dean to follow him out of the room, which Dean did. Tom closed the door briefly in order to slip on some new clothes, then joined them. As they walked Dylaniel continued his explanation. "Templars frequently have extensive combat training. Heaven realized early that if war was going to occur, they'd need to take whatever resources they could from us. They had a massive recruiting effort within the hunter community starting in 2012."

"Hunters?" Dean furrowed his brow. "What could hunters do that angels couldn't?"

They exited the communal housing building and turned onto a narrow street. It was early morning, but the streets were packed with more people than he'd been expecting. The scale of the motel-turned-temporary-housing had given him a better appreciation for how large the base might've been, yet his revised guess didn't seem to do the population justice. This place wasn't just a converted town; it was a town teeming with activity.

Several of the small memorials that he'd noticing along the sidewalks were being tended to by people in varying fashions. At one, a woman lit candles while apparently praying. Another one had a man spilling his own blood into a bronze dish that was shaped like a bird. The use of blood suddenly made Dean question whether they were memorials for the dead or if there was magic at work. He made a mental note to ask about that later, then turned his attention back to Dylaniel.

"When Sam made his deal with Crowley, he saved two hunters from the grasps of Heaven. That, combined with Bobby's early efforts to reestablish his hunter network, were perceived as a small but noteworthy amassing of allies in the form of hunters. Heaven attempted to divide the hunting community by reaching out to some of the members that already hated Sam."

"Have you heard of Clare Matheson?" Tom asked Dean, who shook his head. "She was a psychic working out of Charlotte, North Carolina—"

"Her people were the hunters gunning for Sam?" Dean guessed.

"Gunning unsuccessfully," Dylaniel corrected. "With Sam having killed a dozen of her group and already believing that he was the antichrist, it was easy to convince them to become warriors of Heaven. Matheson started recruiting along the Eastern United States, but within a year Templar groups were in every state along with most European, Central Asian, and South American countries. Heaven's ability to recruit was significantly impacted by the dominance of an Abrahamic religion in the area."

"So what, India wasn't won over by Heaven because the angels weren't pitching Elephant gods?"

Dylaniel's lips thinned at Dean's question. "Roughly 15% of the population of India was Muslim or Christian."

"15% isn't bad," Dean commented.

"That's roughly equal to half the population of the United States," Dylaniel corrected.

Dean's eyebrows rose as he was reminded just how large the population of India was.

"It took everyone a while to understand what was happening," Tom added. "There's been such a long history of sectarian violence in some parts of the world that it was hard to tell what was old or new."

"The violence was easier to identify as the work of Templars in the U.S. They worked to destabilize society, weaken potential threats like the presence of other faiths and magic users. The assorted terrorist attacks and hate crimes pushed most populations to their extremes. Your liberal areas turned more liberal and the conservative areas turned more conservative. With the continent tearing itself apart it became easier and easier for all the different factions to recruit."

Dean had wondered how an army meant to fight angels would've even formed, but if it was initially meant for fighting Templars that made more sense. The idea that other hunters might be killing and causing wanton destruction offended him on a personal level. There were exceptions, yeah, but historically hunters were a respectable community and these angel-whipped hunters-turned-killers were an insult to that.

"So how did you guys manage to recruit hunters without everyone getting spooked off by the Sam and Hell association?" Dean asked.

He had been wondering how he might be able to deal with that whole mess when he got back. Hopefully, he'd be able to figure out a way to prevent Sam from agreeing to work for Hell, but that didn't do anything about his little brother's innate affinity with Hell. Keeping that dynamic hidden away was a major priority.

"They didn't try to avoid the topic of Sam and Hell," Dylaniel replied. "He was the one who orchestrated the whole thing."

* * *

 _1/21/2014_

 _Dean and Cas stood in the small alleyway outside the back door of the W hotel. It was shortly after one in the morning and fog had blanketed San Francisco, obscuring visibility beyond a dozen feet. Dean exhaled into his hands for warmth while they waited._

 _"How is it that we can live in Canada for four years and sunny California is a million times colder?" Dean complained to Cas._

 _The sound of footsteps caught his attention and he turned to look towards the darker end of the alley. "'The coldest winter I ever experienced was a summer in San Francisco.' Mark Twain."_

 _Dean smirked a little at Sam's offered quote, but it didn't make him any warmer._

 _Sam emerged from the fog with a small smile on his face. He was followed by a young Asian woman, a large man with a Mediterranean complexion, and Middle Eastern woman in a pumpkin-colored hijab. The four of them wore pant suits of varying greys and black. Sam, in his usual style, didn't bother with a tie or with buttoning his blazer. Shola carried a brushed stainless steel briefcase that Dean noted was chained to her wrist. The other two were each armed with at least two pistols and an angel blade, by Dean's quick assessment._

 _"You're getting a flare for the dramatic," Dean critiqued._

 _"You'd be surprised how often a little style can make the difference in a deal," Sam replied. "And look who's talking—having this meeting in a boutique hotel."_

 _"Would anyone ever look for us here?"_

 _Dean had selected the hotel, yet the bill had somehow managed to end up on Hell's tab—not that it was a big deal. Hell had a 10% interest in San Francisco's entire financial district._

 _"I'm not complaining. It's nice that we get to have the meet-up somewhere that has more than a one-star review." Sam rubbed his neck anxiously. "Is everyone else here? I know we're running behind. We had trouble getting the parchment without killing—you know what, nevermind."_

 _"They're all inside. It's only a few minutes after. They can forgive it. Maybe don't mention whatever you had to kill for the parchment," Dean suggested, making Sam huffed a weak laugh. There was a moment of hesitation, then Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "You sure about going public like this?"_

 _"We'll have to step out of the shadows eventually. I might as well do it on my own terms and get some benefit from it."_

 _"It's going to be weird seeing you work, isn't it?"_

 _"Yeah. I'll try not to be too much of an ass, but honestly I think they'd be more scared if I was too nice." Sam sighed, then added, "Don't try too hard to defend me and don't get pissed if I'm a dick to you."_

 _This was going to be the first time that Sam and Dean were going to be seen together publicly since Sam had become King of Hell. There was something to be said for keeping their public relationship strictly professional. Neither of them wanted Sam's bad reputation to rub off on Dean, Bobby, or Cas… yet Dean wasn't as comfortable with giving Sam the cold shoulder._

 _"Just don't break any of my bones and I'll manage," Dean assured him._

 _Sam took a moment to gather his composure. After a few deliberate breaths, he straightened to his full height and adopted a smoother, more confident demeanor. "Well, let's go make history." He held out his hand inviting Dean and Cas to enter the building first._

* * *

 _Dean led the party through the kitchen's back door, down a service hallway, and up two flights of stairs. They took a few turns before arriving at a conference room. Already seated at the large mahogany table were Bobby, twelve other hunters, and four fallen angels. Cas entered the room first, but Dean stayed back just before the door for a second to whisper a hello to Shola. The two guards brought up the rear._

 _Sam stopped just inside the doorway and looked over the room. His eyes lingered on the ceiling and the massive area rug covering the floor. He sacrificed precaution for the diplomatic benefit of appearing to be trusting. If there were any hidden devil's traps in the room he could bust them in a split second should things turn sour._

 _Sam took the free seat at the head of the table. He was the instigator of the meeting, after all. To his relief, Tora and Joseba didn't make a spectacle of any concerns they might have had about Sam taking the seat that was most likely to be trapped. Shola took the seat to his right. Dean sat further down the table, between Tamara and Cas._

 _"Who're they?" Carl, a hunter out of the Salt Lake City area, asked, nodding at the two guards who were standing at attention behind Sam._

 _"Extra protection," Sam replied coolly. "They don't speak English, so they're just flies on the wall if everything goes well."_

 _He didn't bother distinguishing them as honored guests as far as demons were concerned. The hunters knew they'd be meeting with the King of Hell, but to have two Knights of Hell in the room might prove too much for their already-strained sensibilities. Thankfully, the fallen angels appeared to be keeping the new discovery close to the chest._

 _"You're just bringing more demons in here?" complained Marcus, a hunter from Wichita who represented a network of over two dozen hunters with loose ties to Bobby's network._

 _Sam's lips thinned subtly at his tone. "I brought an assistant and two guards, who have been instructed to protect everyone in this room. If you want to make a big deal out of their species, then be prepared for that to impact your bargaining position. We're here to cooperate in an attempt to resolve a threat to Earth, not Hell." He let his point hang in the air for a beat before continuing. "So, I suggest you don't start turning away help at your gates."_

 _"Help from Hell. Have things seriously gotten that bad?" Carl muttered._

 _"You showed up, didn't you?" countered Bobby._

 _"So what—we're desperate and Hell is ready to just roll in and barter for our souls? They're going to screw us. We can't trust demons—" Marcus argued._

 _"If I may," Shola interrupted forcefully, but with a smile. "We would like to present our proposal. Your concerns will be addressed to the best of our ability and if you are unsatisfied, then we will leave without confrontation."_

 _"And what if there is a confrontation?" Marcus asked in something not quite rising to the level of a snarl._

 _"Then you'll have been the one to start it, but you won't be the one to end it," Dean said, trying to restore order to the proceedings. "This is a peaceful meeting. If anyone wants to fight, take it outside. In here we've got work to do."_

 _The silence from the group indicated everyone's tacit agreement. Dean shot his brother an almost imperceptible pleading look in the hopes that Sam wouldn't make things too difficult. Sam was trying to walk a fine line between being ominously generous and alienating. Dean just hoped he wouldn't have to try to break up any brawls. With the knights, Sam, and the angels there, they could probably level the building in one good spat._

 _"I can't believe we're actually thinking about making a deal with the Devil." Marcus sighed as he leaned back in his chair._

 _Sam had given up trying to fight the nickname years ago and just embraced the power it incidentally gave him. "Yeah well, the Devil also went to your sister's wedding, so take tonight with a grain of salt."_

 _Dean and Rufus both smirked a bit at Sam's comment._

 _"You've called us here to make an offer—that's what your people are best at, isn't it?" said Anael, one of Cas's favorite sisters. Her tone was cautious, yet it carried less disgust than Sam had expected from an angel as high ranking as the former commander of Earth's entire garrison. She had only agreed to come because Cas had asked her to, but upon seeing four other siblings for the first time in decades she had started to become more comfortable. "So, tell us what we have to lose without you and gain with you."_

* * *

 _"We've all seen the carnage on the news or firsthand. There are at least three distinct groups that are causing it." Sam began his pitch by bringing everyone onto the same page and outlining their common enemies. "The easiest group is your common end-of-days fanatics. The problem is that there are a lot of them, and there are a lot of them because they're not exactly wrong. By some definitions we're looking down the barrel at the Apocalypse, but we haven't passed the point of no return yet. The other two groups are trying to get us there._

 _"Heaven has been recruiting hunters and other combat-trained humans to apply pressure. They've been responsible for many of the recent emergencies—Templars mostly handling the traditional terrorist attacks and angels have started bringing down a lot of 'acts of God.'_

 _"The last group is a minority faction of demons, lead by several archdemons, the most prominent of which is named Lilith. They have been working to unleash Lucifer upon the Earth." All of the hunters aside from Bobby and Dean looked alarmed by the news, but none of the fallen angels were remotely surprised. Sam continued before they got bogged down in the details with Lucifer. He knew where Shola's loyalties lay but the two knights both supposedly had a personal history with the archangel. "Hell has been actively fighting Lilith's forces for five years. We've reduced their numbers considerably, but they've gone to ground on Earth and it's been difficult to locate them—"_

 _"You're talking about this like we're in a war, but we're just a few hunters talking about…. I mean, how big of a problem are we facing, really?" asked Tara, an old friend of John's._

 _"You may be thinking small scale, but the problem is systemic. Mortality rates have increased significantly across the board, and it's not us." Sam didn't look at Dean while categorically including himself with hellspawn. "They're treating this like a war because they want a war. They want Heaven and Hell to have a grand battle that will eliminate one side and it'll destroy Earth in the process. Until they get their war or there's a change of power, Heaven is going to harass Earth to try eliciting a response. They need to be resisted, and Earth needs to be the one in charge of that resistance."_

 _"It's true. I've seen it," added Rachel, a fallen angel of the virtues choir. "They will salt the soil to bring their war."_

 _"That sucks, but what—we're supposed to stick our necks out fighting angels, until we're both so wrecked that Hell could just roll in and fuck us?" Marcus huffed._

 _"Hell is prepared to provide over 100,000 demons to serve under human command," Sam said in a calm tone that didn't begin to capture the magnitude of the offer._

 _The room was silent as his words sunk in. Almost no one on Earth had any concept of how many demons existed. Even Dean, one of only a few humans to survive seeing Hell had been confined to dungeons the entire time. There was no sense of scale compared to Hell, but Azazel's army had only been in the hundreds and it had terrified every hunter in the continental United States._

 _"15,000 in each of North America, South America, Europe, and Africa, 40,000 in Asia, and 3,000 in Australia," Sam elaborated. "And we're prepared to increase those numbers if we deem it wise."_

 _"15,000 demons in North America." Rufus muttered._

 _"That's 15,000 demons on your side. By our estimation, Lilith has pulled at least 50,000 demons onto Earth and she still has reserves. We're actively working to wipe out what would be her reinforcements and we're fighting her where we can up here, but you can't afford to pretend that these numbers aren't real." Sam leaned forward to help emphasize his next point. "I can't spare these resources without something from you in return and without my manpower, you'll find yourselves completely overrun."_

 _"There are only maybe 300 hunters in the U.S." Tara said in concern. She looked to the other hunters for their input, but the shock was still wearing off for many of them._

 _"326 as of last week, and we don't know how many are Templars," Shola corrected._

 _"You think that we'd have Templars going guerrillas on us?" Tamara asked._

 _"Why not?" Sam replied._

 _"If Templars are really so devout, would they agree to work with demons in order to trick us? I mean killing is one thing to people like that, but working with demons—I'm just saying how far do we expect them to go?" Marcus said skeptically, but his voice carried slightly less venom._

 _"Would a hunter really agree to work with demons in order to save us?" Anael criticized, causing her sisters, Rachel and Marut, to nod in agreement with the higher ranking angel._

 _"You're asking us to trust demons," said Reggie, a hunter that Sam and Dean knew from a few years back, based out of Milwaukee. His voice was conflicted, but Sam at least appreciated that he seemed to be seriously reflecting on the issue rather than blowing it off._

 _"Yes, and I'm asking demons to die protecting you." Sam allowed his confident exterior to soften for a moment as he tried to make the hunters at the table understand what Hell was really committing to. "We know how the numbers work out. It's going to be the demons going into the meat grinder on this."_

 _"Riding humans," Carl objected._

 _"We're sensitive to that issue," Sam conceded. "The first choice will be to grab brain-dead or seconds-from-death bodies. All souls will be released to take their natural course."_

 _"And the second choice?" Marcus asked._

 _"If we don't have the days or week necessary to find free bodies… then I think a few ride-alongs are going to be the least of our worries."_

* * *

 _"So, are we basically just gonna be kicking the end of the world down the road?" Reggie asked. "I mean, I'm all for fighting when we can win, but if the choice is death by Heaven now or Hell later…. I just don't know."_

 _"Hell doesn't want Earth, destroyed or otherwise," Sam assured them. "Hell wants more or less the status quo. In fact, we're prepared to pull back on routine official activities on Earth until a sustainable situation can be created."_

 _"You make it sound like Earth's a hunting reserve," Carl jabbed._

 _"Says a hunter," Anael commented, earning a subtle smile from Shola._

 _"Many demons feel it is," Sam confessed, "but that doesn't change the offer before you."_

 _"When you say 'routine official activities' what do you mean?" Bobby asked._

 _"Crossroads will not make contracts with civilians. Empowering of witches will be restricted to non-offensive spellcraft. We'll cut the power to most cursed objects. And more, all subject to limitations that are consistent with the overall objective," Sam explained. "We have sixty-seven different policy changes we're prepared to implement in stages, which could reduce hunter duties by up to 40%. To the extent that you weren't engaged in the fight against our common enemies, you'd mostly be tackling non-human natives."_

 _"Non-human natives?" Tamara asked._

 _"Vampires, werewolves, skinwalkers, etc. Who are we to call them monsters?" Sam smiled subtly as the ambiguous 'we' hung in the air._

 _"You're seriously offering to neuter Hell?" Rufus asked as he scratched his chin._

 _"Not neuter, just temporarily redirect our efforts. We can't give each other aid while stabbing each other in the back."_

 _"You think we're going to help Hell?" Marcus's voice had surprisingly lost most of its hostility, but it was still uncomfortable._

 _"If it means stopping the Apocalypse, then I'd hope so." Sam stared at Marcus flatly without blinking for several seconds. His centuries of practice in Hell taking command of situations was showing. In these discussions, Sam could almost certainly outmaneuver every person at the table and he wasn't trying to hide it. He wanted to show that he wasn't using tricks or subtle manipulations. No working each person over one at a time. They were laying their cards down on the table and gaining the benefit of trust even if it was begrudgingly gained._

 _"What exactly do you want from us?"_

 _"Stand with Hell against the Templars, Heaven, and Lilith's demons under unified leadership," Sam answered simply and sincerely._

 _"Allying with Hell against Heaven?" Tara sighed as she tested the idea aloud._

 _"Heaven is in distress. You should not think of it as pure. It may not be a historic enemy of Earth as Hell has been, but its concern with the wellbeing of humans is questionable at best," Hael commented. "There are angels prepared to stand against Heaven in defense of Earth. We also expect that more will fall, and when they do they'll be looking for leadership."_

 _"Let's say we do it. Who's crazy enough to put their neck out on this?" Rufus asked._

 _"Heaven is already after me," Dean volunteered._

 _Sam, Bobby, Cas, and Hael already knew that he was going to pursue command if the alliance was approved. He and Cas were starting to collect a small following of fallen angels. It made sense that once hunters were brought into the mix he would continue in a leadership position. Despite how obvious the choice was to those who knew him, the idea raised a few eyebrows around the table._

 _"Aren't you a little too close to the angels to be—" Tamara started to object._

 _"Angels are not the enemy," Anael injected. "Michael, Raphael, Zachariah—Heaven is the enemy."_

 _"Dean Winchester has been the most despised human by Heaven for almost four years. The Host wishes to kill him," Marut said as something akin to reassurance. Dean tried not to roll his eyes at the angel's unorthodox attempt to vouch for him._

 _"Okay. You don't have a conflict of interest with Heaven, but you're still Sam's brother and rumor is you were in Hell for a few months—" Marcus began._

 _"Are you fucking kidding me? You think I'm a fan of Hell? You think I like this?" Dean asked, gesturing at Sam and his accompanying demons. He didn't want to insult Sam or even Shola, but he wanted to put it on the record that he wasn't Hell's bitch and create a little distance from Sam. "Anyone want to guess who in this room has killed the most demons?"_

 _Tara took the bait. "You."_

 _"No. Sam, by about a factor of ten. And Cas has killed the most angels hands-down," Dean replied. "Who they are doesn't matter compared to what they want to accomplish. I hate Hell. Personally I would like to melt the whole place down into glass. And I have good fucking reasons to—I was tortured there for 90 years. They tore me apart in ways you can't even begin to imagine. That's where my dad was tortured for 120 years. That's where Sam's been getting his own special sort of torture for..." Dean looked over at Sam. "What is it? You're coming up on 500 years? I hate what that place has done to him…. But no matter how I feel about Hell or Sam, my priority is Earth. If they try to make a move on Earth, I will go back down there myself and kill every last one of them."_

 _Dean trusted Sam despite the showy threat and he knew it. Sam didn't visibly react to Dean's impassioned speech, though Shola and every hunter in the room did a double-take. Cas unconsciously leaned closer to Dean, away from Sam._

 _The King of Hell nodded thoughtfully before responding. "Then it's a good thing we're getting this contract in writing."_

* * *

 _Shola opened the metal briefcase that was chained to her wrist, withdrew a stack of parchment, and handed it to Sam. The pages weren't uniform, but generally measured out to be the standard legal-size._

 _"Before anyone asks, these aren't human," Sam said only half-jokingly as he tidied the pile._

 _He placed one hand on the pile and restated the terms that they had hashed out over the last few hours. As he spoke, text appeared on each piece of parchment. When he was done he took one and passed the pile around the table._

 _"You can't alter the terms," Sam began explaining the rules of the spell. "If you agree to this covenant, then mark your copy with a drop of blood. In one hour, any unmarked copies will be destroyed and all marked copies will only be viewable in the willing hands of the person who marked it. This covenant will only be active if it is agreed to by two-thirds of this group."_

 _Sam took a small black penknife out of a jacket pocket. Without a moment's hesitation he cut the pad of his thumb and pressed it to the bottom of his copy._

 _"Samuel Lucian Winchester," Sam said before picking his thumb up from the parchment. The bloody thumbprint was absorbed by the page, then reformed as his name. Each copy of the parchment also received his bloody signature._

 _There was a pause while everyone thought over the implications of agreeing to the covenant. Dean had no real reservations about entering the contract, but he didn't want to be the first one to agree after Sam. There needed to be a broader base of support if possible._

 _"I'm done hiding," Anael said as she drew her angel blade and plucked her finger. Pressing her finger to the page she smiled with pride. "Anael."_

 _"Robert Steven Singer."_

 _"Rufus Nadim Turner."_

 _"Castiel."_

 _"Dean Winchester."_

 _"Hael."_

 _"Tamara Chikenzie."_

 _"Josephine Danso Barnes."_

 _"Reginald Hull."_

 _"Timothy Marlowe Janklow."_

 _"Tara Larsen."_

 _"Rachel."_

 _"Marut."_

 _"Marcus Bly Barbosa."_

* * *

 _"Sir," Shola whispered to Sam._

 _Everyone else had risen from their seats to leave, except for her. She glanced down at her chair, then looked up at Sam intently. Several of the hunters were casually making their way to the exit, but Carl seemed particularly eager to leave. Sam leaned over and whispered for Tora to tail Carl. When Tora disappeared, a few of the nearby hunters and angels looked at Sam curiously._

 _"What's going on?" Bobby asked, drawing the attention of everyone left in the conference room._

 _"Devil's trap," Sam replied flatly._

 _He offered a hand to Shola. Once she took his hand, Sam flexed his free hand and the chair splintered. He helped pull her up into a standing position, then looked around the room. Several of the hunters seemed downright horrified by the casual display of power._

 _"You know the expression 'I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed'? This sort of trick is disappointing, but I can forgive people for being cautious around me. If it goes beyond this"—Sam picked up a piece of the chair's seat with part of a devil's trap clearly written in chalk on it—"then I'll be mad."_

 _Before anyone could react, Tora blinked back in and said something urgently in Abyssal. Joseba drew an angel blade and looked around. Shola glanced at Sam in concern, then blinked away._

 _"Get the humans out! Carl crossed us!" Sam yelled to the angels._

 _Heal didn't hesitate. She grabbed the three hunters closest to her while teleporting out. Rachel and Marut looked to Cas and Aneal for guidance._

 _"Go!" Cas yelled to his remaining siblings before he grabbed Dean and Bobby, then teleported away._

 _Anael, Marut, and Rachel each immediately grabbed groups of hunters and fled to parts unknown. Tora and Joseba jumped directly back to Hell, but Sam popped home first to let Dean, Cas, and Bobby know he was fine._

 _The next day's news coverage in San Francisco was all about a strange attack at a luxury hotel. The third floor conference area had exploded, though no one was killed or injured in the blast. However, the body of a man identified as Carl Holten was found pinned to the exterior wall of the same hotel. Reports were sketchy, but the rumor was that a red cross was cut into his chest and a pair of wings were painted onto the wall behind him in blood. Tora improvised the design of the warning. After all, she was short on time and didn't know if angels even had sigils._

 _By that night, every hunter from the meeting who hadn't signed initially was on board with the alliance. Carl's apparent betrayal of the rest of the group to the Host had made the lot fugitives to Heaven. Sam's people had been come off as somewhat trustworthy—or at least not wholly self-interested. The whole thing couldn't have turned out better if Sam had planned it all himself._


	50. The Thunder of Gods

As they approached the dining hall, the density of people on the streets began increasing. At first Dean reflexively thought that the people they passed were mostly human until he reminded himself about how many angels and other creatures he'd met. Hell had given some significant number of demons to the fight, but to his knowledge he'd only met Lena, which only emphasized how hard it was to tell what species any given person was.

Body decorations seemed to be popular among the crowd. Many of them had visible tattoos, including an above average number of neck and head tattoos. Some of the tattoos were names and dates, probably signifying a tribute to a deceased loved one. Some had ornate linework across their foreheads, which reminded Dean of the syf that Ruby had shown him, Sam, and Bobby. A few arms bore tattoos of feathered wings peeking out from their sleeves and he smiled at the idea of tatted angels.

Even though most of the clothes looked like they'd been taken from a military surplus store, unique pieces of clothing were mixed in. Leather was a popular choice in varying shades, but most stuck with the classic black or brown. Dylaniel seemed to be the odd man out in his preference for lighter shades like grey and pale blue—even his hand-and-a-half sword's sheath was nearly white.

When they reached the dining hall, Dylaniel broke away for a moment to speak with several people while Tom helped Dean get some food. The options were limited... sort of. There was only one meal plan available for humans, but there were seven other options for different species' unique dietary needs. Dean eyed the tightly sealed bin in the back of the kitchen labeled 'cardiovascular - cured one week.'

"When ghouls eat stuff, do they eat in the dining hall, like around everyone?" Dean whispered to Tom while trying to pull his gaze away from the stash of possibly-human sweetbreads.

"They generally eat during off hours or stick to their own tables." Tom handed Dean a tray of scrambled eggs, country potatoes, and a bowl of thick, opaque whitish liquid with shredded meat floating in it.

"What's the wallpaper paste?" Dean asked while jiggling the tray to observe the consistency of the liquid.

"Congee—think like rice porridge. It's good. More importantly, it's easy to make for a few thousand people."

Dean shrugged in vague disappointment, but followed Tom into the dining hall to find a place to sit. Salviel was seated at a relatively empty table sipping a cup of coffee. Dean had wondered where she'd gone off to after apparently having been relieved. Tom took a seat next to her and Dean followed his lead.

"Angels drink coffee?" Dean nodded to her half-drunk mug of black coffee.

She tilted her head in a gesture similar to a weak shrug. "Some angels enjoy food, but most who eat are just letting their vessel take over for a while to enjoy themselves. Paloma, my vessel—coffee is a passion of hers."

"She's alive?" He'd wondered how an angel's bodies ticked when he was stitching up Cas back at the apartment, but the way the angel had talked about his meatsu—vessel, Dean had just assumed the guy was dead or something.

"Yeah, and awake." Salviel put down the chipped ceramic mug and looked at Dean.

He wasn't sure why, but it made him uncomfortable to know that two people were watching him through her dark brown eyes.

"Many of our angelic recruits have very close relationships with their vessels. The human actually is aware of what's going on and participates in daily life," Tom explained. "Consent is very important to the angels on our side and they've taken to seeking ongoing consent rather than just for the initial possession. It's only fair. After all the vessels are risking their lives too."

"Paloma has an aversion to violence, but otherwise we share senses. I'm the primary actor and she reserves herself for personal matters."

"What kind of personal matters?" Dean asked.

Salviel looked at him like he was an idiot. "It's personal."

Dean dropped the subject and looked around the dining hall as he started eating. He felt like he was back in any number of high school cafeterias on his first day of school, checking out the cliques. There was a table that he quickly identified as demons after one of them told the punchline of what was probably a vulgar or derogatory joke in Abyssal and the others burst into laughter. The table next to them was undoubtedly human because the Abyssal made them all shudder and some potato pieces were thrown in retaliation. One table had a man and a woman who were both wearing what looked like welding goggles and drinking from opaque black cups through ominously red straws.

Another full table caught his attention. The eight men and women all wore light grey or light blue uniforms. Only one of them had a tray of food that just held the congee and a glass of water. The others weren't eating, but seemed to be sitting with her in quiet solidarity. On each of their chests was a small ancient-Egyptian-looking eye embroiled in gold thread.

"What's with them?" Dean asked, pointing with his eyes in an attempt to not be rude.

"They're angels," Salviel answered. "The lighter colors mean that they're air patrol. Sometimes you can get your invisibility knocked out depending on the auras in an area. The lighter colors help camouflage them in a pinch."

"No fucking way. Angels really fly?" Dean chuckled. He'd heard that flapping sound when they popped in and out, but he'd never actually seen any wings. Cas and Ruby had talked about stuff sometimes not being visible to the human eye, but he hadn't imagined anything on the scale of wings.

"Normally we fly faster than humans are able to perceive, but that's not necessary. When you're patrolling there's only so fast you can fly before it's not worth the effort. You might as well save a little energy, especially if you have backup."

"What's the golden eye?" Dean asked. "Dyl doesn't have one."

"That's the sigil of the Order of Horus. I don't worship," Dylaniel said as he approached the table with a tray of food, then sat down next to Dean. Dean hadn't seen him coming up behind him and felt like he'd been caught gossiping, but Dylaniel didn't seem particularly offended—no surprise there.

"Horus… like the Egyptian bird-headed god?" Dean glanced back at the table of angels. "You're telling me that those angels converted?"

"Horus is the Egyptian god of the sky," Dylaniel corrected. "It's a symbiotic relationship. He gives them additional protection in exchange for their patronage."

"I'm sorry." Dean smiled in surprise at absurdity of their conversation. "It sounds like you're saying Horus is real."

"He is real," Dylaniel replied flatly before eating some of his scrambled eggs.

"He doesn't make it out to North America very often," Tom explained. "Aside from angels, he doesn't have a large following beyond Northern Africa."

Dean and Sam had killed a pair of pagan gods on Christmas Eve two years earlier, but he wasn't sure what being a pagan god actually meant. He'd figured that maybe they were monsters, witches, or something akin to demons that had collected a group of worshipers over the years. The idea that there were angels with their God and Heaven made him even less confident in the existence of other deities, but this was a strange turn. He'd been told there was a God and now he was being told there was another—almost certainly many others.

"How does an angel even convert?" Dean looked to Dylaniel and Salviel. "It's not like you guys doubt the existence of God."

"My father may have made me, but until he returns I don't see why I should put more faith in him than a god that is willing to fight beside me," Salviel answered in a tone that was only slightly resentful.

Her words were strangely comforting. He hadn't ever believed in a higher power and that feeling had been tested when he'd found out that angels were real. Yet, in spite of Castiel's testimony that there was a God, he just wasn't entirely convinced. It had come as an unnerving realization that he might be incapable of believing in something more. If he couldn't take the word of an angel, then what evidence would he need to be convinced?

But as it turned out the word of angels was not absolute truth and the title of 'God' wasn't necessarily singled out for one entity. Maybe his doubt was justified? Whether he was right or not was yet to be seen, but he wasn't alone in this confusing mess. If the angels themselves were giving other deities the benefit of their faith, then maybe he was in better company than he'd initially thought.

"I guess I can't argue with that."

Kaylee entered the dining hall without bothering to stop by the kitchen. She wore black leather pants, boots and a knee-length black leather coat that had slits up the sides, which reminded Dean of medieval clothes, though the jacket was unbuttoned along a front seam, allowing her Nine Inch Nails t-shirt to peek through. The shirt somewhat defeated the menacing and/or professional effect her appearance might have otherwise had. When she got closer, Dean noticed red embroidery in the shape of small flowers along the jacket's hems. Her arrival drew the attention of everyone in the hall, though only the table full of demons continued to watch her for more than a few seconds.

"You done putting out the fires?" Tom asked as she leaned against their table.

"Yeah, I smothered them with a few thousand bodies," Kaylee responded before picking up Tom's fork and grabbing a bite of his potatoes.

"Get your own."

"I'm not that hungry," she said while scooping up another bite as he tried to swat her away.

Dean wondered why he had ever doubted that they were brother and sister.

When she finally handed the fork back to Tom, she continued explaining, "We're gonna need to get some people brought in the compensate for a gap I couldn't fill in Mexico. Dyl, did you get ahold of Kali?"

"She can meet with us in two or three days. It will take some time to get her things in order there, as well as ensuring safe passage for Devi." Dylaniel's voice lowered when mentioning Devi, which caught Dean's attention. "But I should be able to reach her without too much difficulty between now and then."

"I need to know if Central Asia can spare some grunts," she told him. "I'm not sure we can wait three days."

"I'll mention it to her."

"See if you can get them for something less than an arm and a leg." Kaylee sighed. "I know that she likes you, but she's stingy as fuck with her people."

"Do you want to send a Crossroads demon?" he suggested.

"The last time I sent her a Crosser, zie came back without a head."

Dylaniel shrugged at Kaylee's rebuff. "Fine, I'll talk to her."

* * *

After finishing their breakfasts Kaylee, Dylaniel, and Tom led Dean across town to some sort of headquarters. On the walk there they passed by dozens of people who watched them with candid curiosity. Now that his full escort was assembled, Dean started noticing the differences in how each of them was treated by the passersby and acted in turn.

As soon as they were in public, Kaylee carried herself with more dignity, though she didn't bother buttoning up her jacket. She had lost most of her playfulness and sass in exchange for a more reserved expression. Dean reminded himself that she was not only the commanding officer of probably everyone around them, but she was also a queen—whenever the fuck that actually meant. Some of the onlookers stood at mild attention when she passed, while others held a single hand to their chest and bowed slightly.

Dylaniel also seemed to command a significant amount of respect from many of the onlookers, but not all of them. A few people seemed to suddenly find something that needed their immediate attention, whether it was discussing a matter amongst themselves or fiddling with a random object. Dean looked to Dylaniel for any sort of reaction to the mild slights, but he didn't acknowledge them at all.

Tom stood a little taller, but didn't nearly keep up the formality that Kaylee and Dylaniel displayed. Most of the onlookers seemed indifferent to him, though a few treated him with a warmth that indicated popularity. This was consistent with Tom's easygoing demeanor at the poker game and the resulting shameless stroll back to his room without any pants.

To Dean's relief, Tom walked beside him and pointed out little details, like the fact that the tiny memorials littering the sidewalks were actually several different things. Some were indeed memorials to the dead, but others were shrines to different gods or altars for witches to get a better link up to Hell. Dean couldn't really tell them apart by sight, but Tom seemed to know where every altar in town was off the top of his head. It made sense that he would, though with connections like Tom had, he probably didn't need to bother kneeling on the pavement to get better reception.

About ten minutes into their walk, a woman turned the corner ahead of them, followed by a small entourage of men and women in combat gear. She had long black hair that was pulled back into a braid. Her olive skin was tanned and dusted with a little dirt, but she still radiated a beauty that reminded Dean of pure strength. She wore dark brown and green leather armor, including a breastplate that was engraved with the images of a tree, a stag, and a bear. She had a long knife holstered on her hip and a recurve bow and quiver on her back. A warm smile spread across her face when she saw Kaylee.

"Macaria!" the woman shouted, stopping Kaylee in her tracks.

Kaylee opened her arms, offering a hug to the woman. "Good hunting as usual?" she asked as they embraced.

"A modest yield, but it was well-earned." The woman looked into her quiver, which only contained six arrows. As she drew a broken arrow, Dean noticed its unusual composition. The shaft was thicker than normal with a pearlescent core and the arrowhead was a metal that was brighter than silver embedded with black veins. "Two were broken in the fight. As I said, well-earned."

"I'm taking care of some family business," Kaylee told her, causing the woman to raise an eyebrow, then look Dean over thoughtfully, but she didn't ask any follow-up questions. "But afterward, I'll be glad to help you make some replacements."

"Be sure to hurry. With the ceasefire ending soon, I'll need to be ready." The woman patted Kaylee's cheek. "Tell your father hello for me. I will ask my own for his continued blessing."

The woman nodded respectfully toward Dean, but turned back to her group without even looking at Tom or Dylaniel. Her group followed her down another side street and his own continued on their way. Once they got out of earshot Dean felt comfortable quizzing his guides.

"Who was that?"

"That was Artemis," Dylaniel said casually.

Even Dean knew about Artemis, Greek goddess of the hunt. She had been a favored deity of hunters in the western world for millennia. Nobody seriously worshipped her in his time, but through tradition it wasn't uncommon to see a hunter's favorite weapon marked with a bear or a stag. When he was a kid, Bobby had told him stories about Artemis teaching the first hunters how to kill monsters like the minotaur or gorgon. Supposedly, she led hunting parties of her hunter worshipers…. Dean leaned back to watch the half-dozen people following her out of view.

"Artemis—that was her? And she's actually hunting for you!" It was taking a lot of self-control for him to not just chase after her. He'd always liked the stories about her, but after seeing her in real life his childhood crush was renewed. "I know I'm not allowed to try anything while I'm here, but if I wanted to get in contact with her when I get back home—"

"She's also a goddess of chastity," Tom said with a knowing smile.

"Fuck."

"Yeah, I definitely hear that." Tom rolled his eyes a little while sighing. "She won't even consider letting you into her hunting party if you've had sex in the last year."

"You ever hunt with her?"

"Yeah, right. She can barely stand to have Tom within fifty feet of her," Kaylee interjected with a laugh. "Her loss."

Dean felt painfully aware of the fact that objectively it'd been over two years since he'd had sex. He wondered if she could sense it off the body or if she'd been deceived by his subjective ninety-two years without getting laid. No wonder she gave him the little respectful nod. He sighed as he push the thought from his mind.

"What's Macaria mean?"

"It's her nickname for me," Kaylee replied. "Macaria is a daughter of Hades. I'm not entirely clear if she actually thinks I'm her cousin or what, but she seems to like me, so I let her do it."

Essentially lying to a god through omission sounded like an incredibly dumb idea, but for whatever reason it didn't concern the others. In the legends, Artemis had always seemed relatively intelligent. Surely she'd be able to figure out that she and Kaylee weren't actually related. What must she think of him? It wasn't like she'd called him Poseidon or anything.

"She knows Sam's human—or whatever, right? He's only… what, like fifty-something years old." Dean tried really hard to avoid implying that the goddess was an idiot. "I mean, Hades is like a big deal in Greek mythology—"

"Don't call it mythology," Tom warned. "That really pisses off the gods and their followers."

"Okay, sorry—but, I mean, she doesn't have to look that hard to see that this doesn't line up. Kaylee, you're not even Greek… maybe." Dean was temporarily distracted by the realization her knew nothing about Ruby's meatsuit.

"A lot of the old pantheons don't keep in touch anymore," Kaylee explained. "Many of the old gods are missing or unrecognizable—Baldr and Odin didn't even notice that Gabriel had been impersonating Loki for like a thousand years. It's pretty rare for them to get their family reunions, so a lot have actually started forming relationships with members of different pantheons. If there are similarities between their families they'll sometimes substitute in for each other—knowingly or maybe with a little bit of willful ignorance. Generally, it's not a problem. Everyone needs support and family nowadays, even if they aren't blood."

The idea that a god could miss their family or need emotional support was a new, uncomfortably human dynamic. Dean scowled to himself. There had been a time when he had known so much: demons were evil drones, angels were the sweet reassurances of his dead mother, and gods were the things of epic myths. But the last week had systematically dismantled every ounce of certainty he'd possessed.

"What's funny is when you get multiple gods of the same domain interacting." Tom grinned. "You'd think everyone created the sun."

"Yeah, that's why you gotta try to keep them apart during down time," Kaylee commented. "It's easy enough to get along when you're fighting against a common enemy, but if you put too many gods in one place and give them time to talk it causes problems."

"What kind of problems?"

"One time Shango and Chaac accidentally electrocuted like a hundred cows," Tom offered as an example.

Kaylee shook her head at the memory. "I still have no idea where we got all that replacement cattle from."

"That was a headache," Tom agreed, then added as the eternal optimist, "but on the plus side, we had steak two meals in a row."

* * *

Headquarters turned out to be a building that looked like it had previously been a combination courthouse and post office. The exterior of the building was roughly reinforced, but the interior still had some remnants of elegant decorations. The main hallway floor was unmaintained white and green marble. Ornately patterned tin tiles covered the ceiling. Many of the walls had lost their wallpaper, but a few dull scraps hinted at a French classical pattern.

They passed through a series of steel-barred gates that had been used as the primary source of security probably more than a hundred years earlier. Eventually, they entered a windowless vault-like room that was maybe thirty by twenty feet. On the near side there was a large table surrounded by eight chairs. In the far corner was a four-person circular table. About halfway along the back wall was a more substantial wooden chair, set apart from the rest, almost like a throne.

Kaylee waved Dean over to the large table. In addition to several large paper folders, it had two bulky laptops and an ornate silver goblet filled with what was probably blood. Below the objects, Dean noticed that the table's surface was a 5x8' map of North America, which was covered with a clear plastic protective layer. Dean looked over the map, which didn't look like any map he'd ever seen before.

The borders between Canada, the United States, and Mexico were missing, along with many lesser borders. A large stretch just east of the Rocky Mountains was covered in a handwritten note 'Badlands.' There were large X's over Southern California, New Orleans, Boston, and the entire Great Lakes region. Large red circles covered multiple sections of the Southeast and Northwest.

"We've got 112 bases across North America, 40 of which are convert military bases. The rest are heavily fortified or hidden locations," Kaylee explained while pointing toward features of the map. "For the most part, neutral humans stick to their cities—well, I guess they're more than cities at this point. The entire population of California is living within fifty miles of the San Francisco Bay—San Francisco, Oakland—all those cities from your day are now a single metropolis. New York City has doubled in size and quadrupled in population since your time. Mexico City broke 15 million at the last census in 2030. Toronto, Chicago, Austin—there are 28 human city-states and some small communities that we don't really keep track of."

"What makes the Badlands bad?" Dean softly chewed his lip while struggling to fathom the scale of the Badlands.

"That whole area got blighted about a decade ago," Dylaniel responded. "The water's more or less poison, so there's no plant life and almost no animals. Without the plants to hold down the topsoil it's constantly having dust storms."

"There are a few enemy bases in the Badlands, but they can only be manned by angel and demons since they don't need food or water," Kaylee added. "It's still dangerous for them though. When you have so much death in an area for so long you get a lot of very powerful ghosts, banshees, and specters haunting the land. You have entire town's worth of bones buried in the dirt, festering with hate in giant, unmarked graves."

"Angels and demons really have a problems with ghosts?" Dean asked. It was hard to imagine that the comparative nuisance of ghosts would really affect something on the level of demons or angels.

"Aside from the telekinesis, ghosts are also possessors who don't need permission to take a host." Dylaniel frowned. Dean noted the surprisingly human response. "Every vessel becomes a battlefield given enough time."

"The environment literally eats away at everything and everyone there. The land is harsh and the spirits fight over anything of value, eventually tearing it apart," Tom said as he took a seat at the map table.

"If stuff gets destroyed there, then how and why are there bases?"

"The bases are constantly being rebuilt and having their garrisons replaced," Dylaniel answered. "As for why, there's almost no strategic value to the land aside from the fact that it's so secluded."

"We generally don't maintain a presence there. It's too high a cost for the reward of isolation. But we send parties in to hit Heaven's and Lucifer's bases at random intervals. If we hit them hard and fast we can usually destroy an entire base without too much effort. We just can't hold it. It's a chore, but preventative medicine always is." Kaylee shrugged at the unfortunate reality.

"With the ceasefire ending in a little over a day, we need to go through and reassess many of the operations," Dylaniel explained as he picked up one of the paper files and began reviewing it. "Many of our people took this holy season as some down time. With the exception of the more contested hot zones, our people are between deployments."

"So, today you get to sit in on a whole bunch of meetings." Kaylee patted Dean on the back.

"Meetings?"

"You wanted to get an idea of what's going on, and short of dragging you through thousands of miles of battlegrounds, this is the best place to start." Kaylee pointed to one of the folding chairs. "Sit down. You're gonna learn how to run an army."

* * *

Dean's head was swimming with information by the end of the second hour, but the pace didn't slow for his benefit. Aside from a short break for lunch around 1pm, the day was a blur of people dropping into the room for appointments or with surprising developments. Nothing dire seemed to be happening at the moment, yet there was an unpleasant eye-of-the-storm feeling to many of the conversations.

The ceasefire was actually a holy season that had begun the day that Dean had arrived in 2039, and now that they'd had a whole day to calmly assess the situation, several casualty reports were coming in from more secluded locations. For example, there had been a significant battle in northern Alberta a week earlier, but the heavy snowfall and massive battlefield had made it difficult to count the dead. With the ceasefire in place, both Heaven and the AFE had worked to clear the bodies and find survivors.

Everything was discussed with a matter-of-factness that felt misleading, especially since lives were on the line. Kaylee and Dylaniel seemed used to making policy decisions that put people into danger; they were commanders in this operation, after all. Tom was more of an advisor and he left the final say to someone else. It wasn't that he seemed averse to difficult choices, but more that he didn't want to be bound to any particular operations. He skimmed the action item list, trying to locate things he could do himself rather than assign others.

One particularly delicate meeting was with an envoy from the human city-state of Twin Cities (formerly the nearby cities of Minneapolis and Saint Paul). They had come to plead for aid. A winter storm had knocked out their utilities for the last six days, which caused rampant illness. They were visiting the AFE base in secret for fear of breaking their neutrality. Kaylee had the envoy wait outside while they explained to Dean the potential risks and benefits of aiding the metropolis.

There was a very real concern that another envoy had been sent to ask Heaven for assistance. In their desperation, the humans should be expected to play both sides. The question was whether sending their own angels to help heal the sick would put them in significant danger, and whether the diplomatic boon would have any real effect on the city-state's loyalty. If they refused aid outright, but Heaven didn't, would that set the AFE so far back that neutrality would be lost?

In the end it was decided that a call for volunteers would be sent out through the angels in their ranks. No one would be ordered to take part in the dangerous aid mission, yet there would certainly be angels willing to go. Beyond their own pursuit of freedom and happiness, one of the most common reasons for angels to fall was the desire to help humans. The bonds that many had established with their vessel reinforced that sense of duty. There were probably even a fair number of vessels with friends or family within Twin Cities. The volunteers would understand the risks, but find them acceptable.

Aside from listening to accounts of snowy killing fields and a population of nearly 10 million going without heat or clean water for nearly a week, the worst part of the extended briefing was meeting Elias Finch. He was some sort of longtime gunslinger, who had an air about him that just screamed 'asshole.' Unlike everyone else, when he entered the room, he didn't bother to stand at attention or show Kaylee any respect. Instead, he took a seat at the larger table, dropping a traveling bag on the floor beside him, and eyed Dean.

"Finch, this is—" Kaylee started to introduce Dean, but was cut off.

"Yeah, I heard." Finch turned his attention from Dean to Kaylee. "You've got a damn fine mess brewing. I was at Fort Bragg when I heard about him this morning."

"Did you hear he was here?"

"No, but I figured he'd be with you or Dylan." Finch looked at Tom and bared his teeth in a subtle snarl. "You can go back to Port-au-Prince if you want."

"You can go fuck yourself if you want." Tom smiled sourly as he leaned back in his own chair, solidifying his position.

"Save the bickering." Kaylee cut off the fight before it gained too much momentum, but crossed her arms as she watched Finch. "Why'd you grace us with your presence?"

"I wanted to look him over; see what the fuss is about."

"Fuss?" Dean asked. He didn't like the way that sounded.

"Everyone wants to know why we have another one of you in the mix," Finch responded, then addressed the room. "I'm not the only officer coming this way. While looking around for you, half the bases I hit were planning on sending someone to find out what's going on. You're just lucky everywhere but NorCal has been up to its ass lately, otherwise I wouldn't be the only one here."

"Fucking hell—Cecily!" Kaylee called out, summoning a demon assistant to her side. "We're gonna have multiple representatives from the regional bases—maybe more arriving in the near future. Coordinate with them, so that we don't have to deal with drop-ins every few minutes."

As Kaylee and Dylaniel spoke with Cecily about the logistics of meeting with everyone, Finch watched Dean in an almost predatory way.

"How are you with a rifle?" Finch probed.

Dean straightened defensively. "Scope or iron sights?"

"If you have to ask," Finch said while shaking his head, but was interrupted by Tom.

"Scope and silhouette."

"I can hit pretty consistently at 650 meters with a scoped .308 and I'm a AAA at silhouette shooting with iron sights." Dean knew he wasn't winning any marksmanship awards, but he was generally considered better than most hunters, which was saying something.

"Get better," Finch advised, then turned his attention back to Kaylee, who had just finished talking with the assistant.

"Thanks." Dean glared unabashedly at Finch. "Thanks for that."

"Finch, go get some quarters, then go down to the ranges on the south side of camp," Kaylee told him. "You might as while do some work."

"I was thinking I could stay here a bit," he countered.

"This whole thing" —Kaylee gestured at Dean; her tone had become stern and Dean realized she was essentially giving orders— "is still need-to-know. Right now, you don't need to. You're not getting shit until everyone else gets their fair shot at getting a rep in. Anyway, I'm sure everybody'll be here by midday tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," Finch muttered as he picked up his satchel and walked to the door. He stared at Dean and Tom for several long seconds before turning down the hall.

"I bet you're regretting letting me out of that cage," Dean commented once Finch was gone.

"News was already spreading before we let you out," Dylaniel observed.

"Dammit, Kay. Why're you always taking in strays?" Tom joked half-heartedly, but no one felt like laughing.

"I'd like to go on record as appreciating not being left with two bullet holes in New Orleans." Dean absentmindedly rubbed the section of his abdomen that had been hit. "So, how bad are things?"

"If word's gotten that far, then there's basically no question that Heaven knows you're somewhere on Earth. Team Lucifer will probably be finding out in the next day if they don't know already." Kaylee rubbed her temples as she sunk into her throne-like chair. "The clock's officially running…. Looks like this holiday is gonna end with a bang."


	51. Legacies & the Fee Tail

Toward the end of the afternoon an assistant came in with a thin paper file. Dylaniel was the closest person to her, so he accepted the delivery. After taking a moment to skim through its contents, he sighed. Kaylee looked up from the laptop she was working on and frowned slightly.

"Another one?" she asked unenthusiastically, earning a nod of confirmation from Dylaniel, though he didn't look up from the papers.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Another what?"

His upper body was draped over the map table in fatigue. He'd given up on trying to count how many little random decisions and appointments he'd witnessed so far in the day. There had been a time when he thought that wars were action-packed and dramatic, but so far it was a whole lot of paper pushing.

"Another applicant." Kaylee closed the laptop, then stood up in preparation for something. "Hell is a divine monarchy and I haven't held up my end on one of the job requirements."

"Being the First Light runs in the bloodline, and she doesn't have any heirs," Dlyaniel clarified.

Tom's expression was fairly neutral, though the corner of his mouth turned down slightly at the way his little sister was being talked about.

"You have to have a kid as part of your job?" Dean sat up in surprise and discomfort. He barely knew her and she was thirty years old, but in a weird, alternate-reality way she was his niece. The entire idea that she might be a sexual entity was awkward, even ignoring the issue of bodily autonomy.

"It's not like I have a deadline, but essentially," she replied. "If I die and I don't have anyone to pass the throne down to things in Hell would be really fucked—and that'll mess things up up here. Crowley would probably try to operate as regent or something for long enough to figure something out, but who knows if that'll last."

"So you're getting pressure to marry?"

"Nobody really cares whether I get married." She shrugged. "It's just that I need to have kid or two. I don't even need to stick with the same co-parent."

"You haven't been able to find one that you can stand. You probably shouldn't start counting chickens," Tom suggested.

"Speaking of chickens, who's the next contestant?" Kaylee asked.

Dylaniel flipped back to the first page of what Dean realized must've been a personnel file. "Ariel."

"The mermaid?" Dean joked.

"Not quite." Tom smiled helplessly. "I'm not sure a half-fish could cut it in Hell."

"A quarter-fish," Kaylee corrected. "Yeah, I don't think Crowley'd be too happy filling Hell with saltwater. I—"

"Wait," Dean said while holding up a hand to silence her. "Let me savor the mental image."

"I'm guessing angel," Tom added, trying to find out more about his sister's suitor. "It's always interesting to see who the contenders are. All the factions want a claim to Hell."

"Throwing a little angel in the mix has been a popular idea with every faction except demons. Not that it'd be a problem. If I put my foot down on something Hell listens." Kaylee turned her attention back to Dylaniel, who was still looking over Ariel's file. "Dyl, what can you tell me about him/her/zie?"

"Currently him," Dylaniel replied. "He's a seraphim known as the 'Lion of Heaven.' He fell about eight years ago to join us and achieved command of a platoon within a few months. Ten commendations for service—many angels admire him."

"But you don't like him?" Kaylee guessed.

"I have a concern." Dylaniel looked down at a particular section of Ariel's file. "He has never served in an integrated unit. Because of his experience and a lack of field officers at the time of his fall, he was allowed to select his subordinates very early. He only selected angels, and since then only angels have requested transfer to his command."

"Well, this should be interesting. Tom and Dyl, I want you both in on this." Kaylee grinned at Dean. "Enjoy the show. You get to watch some more of the delightful politics of running this ensemble cast."

* * *

Ariel was a few inches shy of six feet, with a little muscle to him. His skin and hair hinted at some African lineage, but his intense grey eyes made Dean do a double take. He wore unremarkable military fatigues with a few small insignia denoting some meaning. Every movement he made was deliberate and precise.

Kaylee sat at her improvised throne while Tom and Dean sat at the small circular table in the corner. Dylaniel opted to stand at mild attention several feet to Kaylee's left. Ariel stopped about ten feet in front of her, placed his right hand to his chest and bowed.

"At ease," she said, causing him to nearly relax. "I'm told that you are courting me?"

"Yes. It would be an honor." His voice was quieter than Dean had expected, but he had to admit that the seraphim spoke with conviction.

"The evaluation process could be extensive. I will ask you some questions. There will be tests." Her eyebrows rose subtly at a thought. "What is the state of your vessel?"

"He was killed in battle one month after our joining, though I have maintained its health in all other respects."

"Your body's health will be independently verified if I deem you worth further consideration," Kaylee explained as she scanned him with her eyes, then continued, "Also, in the event that we have a child, if it ends up carrying any of your grace, you will be prevented from taking it or any of its issue as vessels."

"I—understand." Ariel's voice wavered in surprise at the thought, but agreed without hesitation. Tom nodded in approval at the seraphim's dumbfoundedness.

"So Ariel." Her voice lost some of its cold authority, but it would be a stretch to describe her demeanor as warm. "Tell me what made you decide to join us?"

"I spent years watching my siblings kill each other." He reconsidered his approach, then restarted. "I did not understand the war for many years. I did not question Heaven's purpose because it was the will of our father. After a one-year deployment, I returned to Heaven and found that my most beloved siblings were dead. At first I blamed the armies of Earth, but when I realized how few of us were left in Heaven…. Our father could have restored Heaven, but he is not behind them."

"Do you think your father favors us?" Kaylee asked as she studied Ariel like someone might a classical piece by some famous painter.

"No." Ariel's jaw clenched. "I think he is... lost."

"If neither side is blessed, then why did you fall for us? You were already home."

Ariel shifted a bit, revealing some level of discomfort. Dean had seen angels use these otherwise-human tells, but he'd found them difficult to read. It wasn't obvious if the seraphim was offended, embarrassed, or sad—but any and all of those possibilities piqued his curiosity.

"Heaven would sacrifice all of our lives wagering on an idea," Ariel answered. "I cannot believe in paradise when I cannot believe in the judgment of those who would take me there."

Kaylee nodded to help signal her appreciation for his answers so far. "I can see you care a great deal about your siblings. I'd like to know your thoughts on humans."

"To be honest I did not give them much thought until I fell. I served on Earth during the Second Punic War for one month, though I did not interact with more than twenty humans. I was charged with preserving holy relics and spent most of my time in a temple. In the last several years I have had more extensive interactions with them. Overall, I've found them to be resilient and very adaptive; both admirable qualities."

"How do you feel about their culture?"

"Some of their tendencies are…." Ariel chose his phrasing carefully. "Overwhelming to the senses. Mostly the smells of their food, which they take an inordinate amount of pride in, and their recreational sounds."

Kaylee smiled slightly. "You're not a fan of music?"

"I do not believe I understand the point," he admitted. "But several of my respected siblings seem to appreciate it, so I may have simply not considered it enough."

"Tell me your thoughts on nephilim," she instructed without warning.

His brow and mouth wavered for a moment, caught off guard by the change of topic, but he quickly replied, "They are necessary—" Ariel stopped talking so quickly that Dean thought he must've literally bit his tongue, but then the seraphim looked at Dylaniel in alarm and Dean realized it had actually been figurative tongue biting. "My words were poorly chosen. I was wrong to say that."

"No, you were right. We are necessary and you did choose your words poorly," Dylaniel responded with a colder than normal tone of voice.

Dean's eyes widened slightly at the drama unfolding in front of him. Based on the way Tom's eyebrows had risen, he could tell the seraphim had committed some kind of faux paus. To her credit, Kaylee's expression didn't change at all. Whatever fuck-up her suitor had committed, she hadn't been completely blindsided by it.

"I did not mean to offend you," Ariel said as something akin to an apology.

"I believe you," Dylaniel replied flatly. "Continue."

Dean tried to casual cover his mouth to conceal the tiny smile that helplessly grew on his face after watching Dylaniel's non-forgiveness.

"Your—" Ariel began speaking to Dylaniel, who he had turned to face, but realized that it was really Kaylee that he was attempting to woo. He turned to face her again and stood a little straighter in an attempt to regain his full composure. "The nephilim will likely play a vital part in the future of both this conflict and afterward."

Dean had no idea what they were actually talking about, but to his ears that answer sounded like canned bullshit. Mercifully, Kaylee held up a hand to reassure Ariel that he didn't have to continue struggling to come up with more positive statements that he probably didn't fully believe. It wasn't exactly that he seemed to be lying. It was more like he was so bad at lying that he couldn't figure out how to finesse an unpleasant topic.

"Tell me about your thoughts on demons." Kaylee probed deeper with barely any mercy. When Ariel hesitated, she told him, "Don't worry about being tactful. I want to know how you really feel. A miscommunication would be more harmful to you than a sincere disagreement."

The casual threat embedded in her reassurance made Dean think of a Crossroad demon. Clearly, she did have a background in politics.

"I understand why they are an important resource... but I do not think that they are trustworthy," he confessed.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because they are corrupted." His tone made it clear that he thought his point was obvious. "It's in their very nature."

"Have you ever had a conversation with a demon?"

"No."

"What are you doing right now?" she asked pointedly, creating a painful silence that stretched between them.

"Ma'am, you…." Ariel shifted again. "You're the First Light of Heaven."

Kaylee stood up and removed her long leather jacket. Tom hurried to collect it from her. As he carried it with him back to the sidelines, he flashed a knowing grin at Dean. Kaylee took a few steps forward, stretching her shoulders slightly. As she flexed, Dean could see that most of the back of her t-shirt had been cut out, only leaving the collar and the bottom hem to hold its form.

After a moment of concentration, a pair of long, slender wings extending from her back faded into view. The wingspan was easily twenty-five feet, filling the entire width of the room. The wings appeared to be made of light that shimmered just enough to allude to individual feathers. Dean could barely look at her because the wings were so bright, and noticed that Tom was also averting his gaze. Dylaniel seemed relatively disinterested, but Ariel stood in a state of awe.

"I may be the First Light, but this is not all that I am." The light faded, allowing Dean to look back at her. Her wings had lost their luminosity, taking on an almost black color that matched her demonic eyes. She had black, sturdy but sharp claws. Five-inch long black horns grew out from her forehead and curled backward parallel to her scalp. Her earlobes extended an inch further back than normal and almost resembled stubby bat wings. A pattern of fine lines that glowed like embers spread across her forehead and up her horns.

Dean tried not to let his mouth fall open in shock. Ruby and Castiel had mentioned that she might be able to make her eyes turn black and maybe something else, but that was a lot more than eyes. That was one of the least human forms he'd seen outside of Hell.

"Ariel, does this bother you?" When she spoke three pairs of fangs were visible in her upper set of teeth alone.

"I... I do not know." His voice wavered slightly.

"I appreciate your honesty." Her wings rocked gently, unable to flap or fully retract in the eight-foot-tall room. "Any child we have would be part demon. You would have no power over Hell; only Abyssal can sit on the throne. Knowing this, would you like to retract your offer? You won't suffer any negative consequences if you do so."

"No. I do not wish to retract my offer."

Kaylee nodded, then stared at him thoughtfully for a few seconds. In an instant she had reverted back to her normal appearance.

"I need some more information before I decide. If you want to continue being considered, you will need to do at least two things for me: first, you will go to Hell, entering through the Black Gate. You will be unarmed and without any form of armor. From there I want you to travel to the Citadel. You won't be able to fly, so at an average pace it should take you four days to reach the Citadel. If you exercise diplomacy and good judgment, you could reach the Citadel in just over one day. If you exercise poor judgment, you'll never reach the Citadel. Once there, you will find Crowley and he will take you to the throne room before returning you to Earth.

"If you return, you will have the option of completing my second requirement. You would report to Dylaniel and serve directly under him." She looked to Dylaniel. "If Ariel reports to you for service, I want you to assemble a fully integrated squad and run operations in the Badlands for at least three months. At the end of your operations, I want your full assessment of him."

The mention of spending three months in the Badlands made Ariel lips part subtly for a moment before recovering. Dylaniel nodded with some combination of experienced indifference to the assignment and lack of surprise at Kaylee's judgment. Tom glanced over at Dean with a little smirk.

"I understand. Thank you. I will appoint a replacement and begin immediately," Ariel agreed.

"You're dismissed."

With another bow, the seraphim excused himself.

* * *

Kaylee walked over to Tom, who tossed her back the leather jacket. Dean stared at her, thoroughly disoriented by everything that had just happened. He was still trying to figure out how the whole wings thing worked. She slipped on the jacket, then looked between Tom and Dylaniel.

"Tommy, Dyl, what do you two think?" she asked while Dylaniel approached the table.

"He's a little uptight, but he's an angel—no offense," Tom apologized to Dylaniel.

"None taken," Dylaniel replied. "He might just be unfamiliar with non-angel social customs. He's only been on Earth for a few years. We'll see—if he survives Hell."

"You're running him by the throne?" Tom gave Kaylee a nod of approval. "That'll be interesting."

"Yeah, let's see if he feels the need to try it out." She shrugged while adjusting her jacket.

"Won't he die if he sits on it?" Dean asked a little surprised by their causal tone.

"He'll never rule. I told him that and if he's still thinking about making a power play for Hell, I can't have him around."

Dean wasn't thrilled by the idea of Ariel's life being endangered. The guy didn't seem like an ass, per se. Though he supposed that Kaylee did need to be conscious of usurpers.

"I'm less concerned about him making it out of Hell. I think it's whether Dyl gives him a thumbs up that's his real trial." Tom patted Dylaniel's shoulder.

"That nephilim flub was rough," Kaylee said while cringing at the memory.

"What's a nephilim?" Dean asked.

"Nephilim are the offspring of a human and an angel," Dylaniel explained. "We are abominations under the law of Heaven. It is a mortal sin for an angel to mate with a human. The parents and children are to be killed on sight by servants of Heaven."

"You're half-human?"

Tom and Kaylee exchanged a quick sidelong glance with each other, then watched Dylaniel.

"Yes."

It had taken a second for him to really appreciate that Dylaniel was only half angel. Based on his reserved demeanor and name, he'd just assumed the kid was an angel—though Kaylee had also provided the human name Dylan when initially introducing him. In hindsight, Kaylee and Tom had only ever referred to him by the dual abbreviation of Dyl while in private. Also, no one had ever actually told him that Dylaniel was an angel and he didn't talk about Heaven or God in the same way as the angels.

It shouldn't have surprised him that angels could have kids with humans; they'd just been discussing an angel having a kid with a human-demon hybrid. If that was on the table with the whole demon thing, then it'd make some sort of sense that it'd work without the demonic bad-mojo in the mix.

"I don't get it. If you're looking for a trustworthy angel guy, why don't you and Dyl have kids?" Dean asked.

Kaylee raised her hands and stepped backward as if to say that she wasn't touching the topic.

"Because we're cousins," Dylaniel answered for her.

Kaylee and Tom watched with morbid amusement as Dean worked through the meaning of the answer. They had parents who were siblings and demons didn't have siblings as far as Dean knew….

"Y-you're my son?" Dean's voice was so quiet that he wondered whether he had even made sound.

"Timeline differences aside, yes." Dylaniel's neutral expression barely changed while giving the earth shattering news.

Dean rested his face in his hands. This was too much information for him. He felt like all the air had been sucked from the room and replaced with questions. Looking up at Dylaniel again, he could see a slight resemblance. The boy looked like him except for a little difference in the hair and, obviously, the eyes.

"And you're half angel?"

"Yes."

Dean nodded slowly as he processed the information. There was an angel out there that he'd ended up having sex with—maybe she was alive still? Maybe he'd meet her? What if he already had? He was getting too caught up in guessing.

"Who's your mom?" Dean asked, pulse rising.

"Angels don't have genders. I don't have a mom; I have a xe," Dylaniel replied, but it only confused Dean more.

"A what?"

"'Xe' is a gender-neutral pronoun," Tom explained. "The nephilim adopted it to mean their angelic parent regardless of their vessel's sex."

"Ok…." Dean was struggling to process the whole him-having-a-kid thing. Grammar lessons took a back burner. "Who's your xe?"

"Castiel."

* * *

 _8/17/2010_

 _Cas plunged his blade into the last angel's chest, then pulled it back out as the body flickered and fell to the ground. He looked around the room to see Dean wiping the blood off his adopted angel blade onto his jacket sleeve. Cas wordlessly walked over to inspect Dean for injuries and healed the few cuts he found._

 _"Your tie's shredded," Dean managed between winded breaths._

 _Cas looked down to see that his dark blue tie had been cut diagonally over almost the full length of its front. He held up the pieces and scowled subtly._

 _"Are you going to fix it?" Dean asked while bolstering his weapon._

 _"I'm not injured." Cas slowly loosened the tie and took it off. He dropped it in a move that made them both strangely uncomfortable. "It's unnecessary…. Repairing it would be a waste of my energy."_

 _Despite the moderate ease with which Cas had discarded the tie, over the next two days Dean began to suspect that Cas was actually saddened by the loss. The angel would never consciously acknowledge it, but he seemed to have gained some of the sentimentality that supposedly came hard for species. But Dean saw him, several times a day reflexively reach to adjust his tie, remember that it was no longer there, then pause thoughtfully. At first it was interesting to watch, but quickly the spectacle of an angel possibly feeling remorse over clothing accessories was replaced by the desire to cheer up a friend._

 _"Happy birthday," Dean said as he walked into the motel room and tossed a small box to Cas._

 _"I don't have a birthday." Cas looked at Dean, a little confused, but began unwrapping the box._

 _"You do now." Dean sat down on one of the queen beds and watched Cas open his gift. "August 20th, mark your calendar."_

 _Cas removed the box lid to find three new ties in varying shades of blue. "Thank you, Dean." He held them up to examine their different textures. "You didn't need to buy three. It is customary to only wear one at a time."_

 _"Yeah, but you can switch between them depending on your mood," Dean explained. Cas was still learning about aesthetic preferences and simple pleasures, so he decided to walk him through the decision making process. "Which one do you like the most?"_

 _"They're all very nice. Which one do you prefer?"_

 _"That's not really what I was getting at, Cas. I'm try to help you make that decision."_

 _Cas nodded in understanding of Dean's intent, then gave the issue a little more thought. "Tell me which one you'd pick and why you'd select it."_

 _Dean sighed a little to himself, but walked over to the table. He thumbed through the options then picked up the lightest blue tie, and held it out to Cas._

 _"This one." Dean spoke with a determination that made Cas nod in recognition._

 _"And why?"_

 _"Because it matches your eyes." Dean felt a bit self-conscious and added, "It's a general rule of clothing: when in doubt wear something that matches your eyes."_

 _Cas looked at the tie that dangled from Dean's hand, then frowned slightly. "I don't know how to knot a tie."_

 _Dean chuckled because, of course, the original tie came pre-tied with the body and the angel seemed to never remove his clothes._

 _"I'll help you with these, but you're gonna have to learn this skill at some point…. I mean, you might not 'have to' but it's helpful for faking a Fed."_

 _Dean pulled up a chair in front of Cas. He lifted the angel's collar, wrapped the tie around his neck, and began tying the knot. A relaxed smile formed on Dean's face. It had been a few weeks since they had had a nice lull in their hunting and it felt good to do something so simple. The first attempt resulted in a tie that was too short, so Dean remeasured it against Cas's torso._

 _"You should wear green more often. Or do you not doubt what to wear?" Cas asked in what Dean assumed was a valiant attempt at small talk._

 _Dean grinned while looping one end around the other. "I know I look like I got dressed in the dark most days, but when I want to look good I can."_

 _He gripped the forming knot, and pulled it into a tight Half Windsor. Dean took a little pride in his work by adjusting it to place a dimple just below the knot._

 _"I don't understand," Cas replied. "You always look good."_

 _Dean flustered a bit while patting the tie flat against Cas's chest, then scooted his chair back a few feet. He could feel his ears turn pink and his smile flickered nervously. Dean reminded himself that Cas was still learning how to compliment people, so the subtleties of that statement were almost certainly lost on the angel._

 _"Thanks, Cas. I'm gonna get ready for bed. Think you can handle the other two?"_

 _"I should be fine."_

 _Dean patted Cas on the shoulder and went into the motel bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he braced himself against the sink basin, and sighed. Cas was a good guy, but he had a way of sending some very strange signals._

* * *

 _8/14/2010_

 _A week earlier they had stopped at a diner for lunch. Dean had ordered his usual bacon cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate malt while Cas socially ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and water. Dean had the first sip of his malt, then sank back in the booth. After proclaiming that he'd just had the greatest chocolate malt in existence, Cas reached across the table, picked up the glass, and tried a sip using Dean's straw._

 _Dean was a little too shocked to say anything at first, but he wasn't about to abandon the remainder of the malt just because Cas had committed a faux pas. When they got back into the Impala, he decided to say something._

 _"Cas, I'm telling you this because you're trying to fit in better, so don't take this the wrong way: you shouldn't have just tried my shake." He tried to keep his tone of voice as non-critical as possible, though he wasn't entirely sure if Cas could even perceive that sort of distinction._

 _"Was it something specific to the food type or a rule in general?" Cas asked, eager to learn from his apparent mistake. "I've seen several instances of humans eating each other's food."_

 _"It's like a combination of the food and the symbolism of eating another person's food…." The body language had been obvious to Dean, but when pressed to articulate it he was having trouble quantifying it. "I mean, you only eat off each other's plates if you're family or best friends."_

 _"You're my best friend," Cas replied in a tone that Dean could tell was almost concern._

 _He mentally kicked himself for carelessly choosing words that Cas could interpret as meaning that they weren't good friends. The angel's literalness sometimes led to a gullible insecurity that Dean needed to protect him from._

 _"That's true, but even best friends ask for permission before just grabbing each other's food," Dean explained._

 _"But people don't always ask permission." Cas had seen it at least ten times in six states over the last eight months of hunting with Dean._

 _"Usually grabbing food without asking first is something people in relationships do." Dean realized that Cas wouldn't understand what he meant by 'relationships.' "Like romantic relationships."_

 _Cas thought quietly in shotgun for what seemed like a whole minute. Dean debated asking if Cas was alright, but he eventually nodded in understanding._

 _"I misrepresented the boundaries of our relationship, and you were embarrassed," Cas said._

 _Dean wanted to correct Cas by saying that he'd misrepresented their 'friendship' or 'partnership,' but that would just prolong the already awkward conversation. For a second Dean thought that Cas seemed dejected, but the feeling was fleeting._

* * *

 _11/02/2010_

 _Cas heard Dean's mumbled prayer from several blocks away and teleported to him immediately. Dean was slumped over in an alley, but to Cas's relief he was not injured. He was drunk, more than Cas had ever seen from him before. The small pool of vomit below Dean confirmed that an evening of fun had gone too far._

 _Carefully, Cas helped Dean upright. Draping one of Dean's arms around his neck, Cas tried to help him walk, but Dean's feet missed their marks badly. After realizing just how intoxicated Dean had managed to become, Cas instead opted to simply carry him. Cas scooped Dean up and was met with only token resistance._

 _Once Cas had carried Dean back to the motel room, he laid his charge down on the bed. Cas removed Dean's boots and jacket, then made for the belt. He knew that belts were located ominously close to genitalia, so he proceeded with caution. Dean briefly attempted to either aid or stop Cas, but the intent was unclear._

 _As he turned to go, Dean hooked Cas's right thigh with his arms. Cas looked back down at his pitiful friend. Dean's eyes were barely open and he didn't seem fully capable of lifting his head enough to look Cas in the face._

 _"Don't go," Dean almost whispered. His free hand reached up to grab at Cas's trench coat, but ended up just awkwardly dragging down Cas's side. When Cas reclined on the bed, with his head propped up against the headboard, Dean buried his face into the tan trench coat. He patted Cas's chest a few times, then told him, "Don't leave me…. I don't wanna be alone."_

 _Cas placed a hand on Dean's back in a weak attempt at providing comfort. After some contemplation, Cas realized that it was November 2nd, the anniversary of Dean's mom's death. They had known each other for less than a year, but in the months they'd spent on the road Cas felt he had gained a significant understand of his companion. As much as Dean seemed committed to the life of a hunter, it was not his choice. It was ingrained in him from a young age as a result of his mother's death. Cas supposed there was a lot for Dean to mourn every anniversary._

* * *

 _The next morning, Dean woke up with almost no hangover, but that wasn't what he noticed first. He had somehow managed to end up half-snuggling with—or at least against—Cas. Dean's head was pillowed on Cas's abdomen and lower chest. His right arm wrapped around the angel's torso and his right leg crossed over and intertwined with Cas's. Cas's arm softly held Dean's back, acting as support._

 _Dean looked up at Cas, who was just sitting there quietly waiting for Dean to wake up. Their eyes met, about a foot apart, and Dean suddenly was the one who hadn't understood personal space. He blushed below his freckled cheeks when Cas smiled at him, then hastily untangled their limbs. Dean scooted backwards off the bed, making some vague statement he couldn't be bothered to think through, about needing the bathroom before slipping away._

 _Once in the bathroom, Dean started to process the situation. He'd gone out drinking the night before because he was sad and lonely. His plan to find a woman to hook-up with had failed; not for lack of interested woman. Two had given him the nod. But when it came time to jump, he just wasn't feeling it. In his confusion and frustration, he'd drank more than he should've._

 _Cas had found him and brought him back to the motel. He had asked Cas to stay because he needed someone, but not in a fleeting physical way like he would've had with one of the women. The thing he'd needed was a source of emotional support._

 _That realization hit Dean a little harder than he would've thought possible, but there were two other discoveries that were equally troubling: he hadn't woken up in a cold sweat or crying. It was probably only the third time in almost two years that he hadn't dreamt of Hell. Maybe it was his intensely drunken state or maybe he just felt safer not sleeping alone._

 _The other realization was that he was partially hard. He normally didn't mind morning wood, except when it was potentially sending mixed signals to his friends. Dean touched his jeans to try to figure out if the bulge had been visible to Cas. He had intended to only readjust his pants and wait for it to go away, but when he touched his dick to move it he reconsidered. It'd been weeks—probably a month—since he'd masterbated, and Cas knew that the bathroom was off-limits while the door was shut._

 _Dean started a warm shower and climbed in. He started thinking about the blonde he'd met at the bar—Mindy, he was pretty certain. She'd been wearing a tight pink dress that barely held in her breasts. Visualizing her was okay. She was attractive, but it wasn't really doing it for him. He was older, more mature, and apparently the idea of casual sex had lost some of its appeal. He wanted more than just some brief physical connection. He wanted a real relationship. Last night, his instincts had turned him away from the one night stand and Cas had taken care of him. Cas had brought him back to the motel, cleaned him up, and stayed with him through the night. Cas had patiently lay there while he had grabbed at him and embraced him. Cas had—_

 _Dean's eyes rolled back and his thoughts went foggy with bliss for a few seconds. He felt a moment of complete relaxation, then the panic began to creep into his mind. He'd just jerked off to Cas without even really working at it. Since Hell, masterbating had become an exercise in healthy living that he really had to put effort into, not the fun release it used to be. Many of life's little pleasures had lost their thrill since Hell, and he'd assumed that that was how it'd always be going forward, but it turned out he was wrong…._

 _But Cas was a guy—sort of. He'd known attractive guys before, even enjoyed looking at them occasionally, though definitely not as much as he enjoyed looking at women. Yet he'd never jerked off to one before. He felt a knot form in his stomach. It wasn't just the fact that he'd touched himself while thinking about a guy. It was that it came so easily. If he was honest with himself, at that point Cas was probably the best thing in his life._

 _Dean rested his forehead against the shower wall. He tried to think about something else: their current job; whether they could fit in another hunt before heading back to camp for Kaylee's first birthday; anything. But he couldn't focus on the distractions. There was one crack too many and the levee was starting to crumble. His shoulders slumped as he started shaking in spite of the warm shower. Tears began running down his face._

 _He was confused and ashamed. Somehow he'd gone from being one of the toughest hunters around to crying in the shower over a guy. He had thought about a man and that was wrong—for him. As far as he was concerned, if other people were gay that was their business, but he couldn't be having those feelings. He wasn't supposed to be like that. He was supposed to love hunting, muscle cars, hard alcohol, rock and roll, a good fight, bad beer, and easy women. He was a man's man—Dean hit his head lightly against the tile wall._

 _Taking a mental step back, it wasn't that he was super attracted to Cas physically. It was more the relationship that they shared that Dean appreciated. He'd had friends before. Not many, but when your life was as intense as a hunter's, strong bonds could form quickly. But none of his friends had ever been like Cas. All of his friends were good for a few fun days or a week tops before he needed some space. Yet Dean had been more or less on the road with Cas for ten months, and he hadn't gotten tired of him._

 _The angel was a little strange at times, but he had a sincerity that Dean cherished and it seemed like he always had some new facet to reveal. Initially, Cas's skill at making small talk had been horrible, but eventually Dean had realized that he was perfectly willing and able to engage in lengthy substantive conversations just fine. Maybe the idea of talking about anything and everything with someone should've scared him, but it was strangely freeing and thrilling. For the last few weeks he'd even thought about telling Cas what he remembered from Hell. He'd been scared to be that vulnerable with Sam, Bobby—even Ruby, who might be able to relate, but Cas was different. Cas was different than everyone. Dean clenched his eyes and cursed._

* * *

 _After getting out of the shower, Dean popped his head out from behind the bathroom door and asked Cas to run a few errands. He made some excuse about wanting to take a slower morning after the long night. Cas didn't question it, and left to fill up the Impala, grab Dean some breakfast, get directions to their next stop, and more._

 _As soon as Cas was gone, Dean walked out of the bathroom dressed from the waist down. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he grabbed his cell and called Sam._

 _After a few rings Sam picked up. His voice was groggy, but attentive. "Dean, everything okay?"_

 _"Yeah, Cas and I are fine," he assured his brother. "Do you have a minute to talk?"_

 _"Um... Sure." Dean could hear a rustling noise and Ruby's voice in the background._

 _"If this is a bad time…." Dean began to take the opportunity to retreat from the conversation. He rolled his eyes in frustration at his own cowardice._

 _"No, it's fine. I was going to get up in a few minutes anyway." Dean felt like an ass for calling at what was 6:20am where Sam was, but his time away from Cas was limited. "What's up?"_

 _"Well, you know how Cas asks a ton of questions? He asked me what it's like to be in love." Sam's end was silent, so Dean hastily continued, "I don't really know what to say. I had that thing with Cassie a few years back, but that was only a few weeks—how am I supposed to know if that was love?"_

 _"Wow. Uh…." Sam sighed, then said, "This is kinda heavy talk for before I've had any coffee."_

 _"Sorry man. This was dumb." He could feel himself blushing. "I shouldn't—"_

 _"No, no. I don't mind. Just give me a second." Dean could hear Sam shut a door, then walk around. Sammy was probably trying to find some privacy too. "I'm probably going to give you a bad answer. I haven't really thought about this stuff much."_

 _"What's there to think about? It's feelings—just describe." Dean quickly added, "You're in love with Ruby, right? Or am I completely embarrassing us both?"_

 _"I think it's safe to say we're both embarrassed," Sam replied, a little amusement audible in his voice. "But, yeah, I think I'm in love with Ruby."_

 _"You think?" Dean asked in alarm._

 _Sam's uncertainty was unnerving, both because he wasn't sure how good Sam's intel would be and also because it might mean that you could be in love and not even know it._

 _"What do you want from me? It's not like this stuff comes with a manual," Sam muttered. "Ruby and I... haven't actually said the words—but, I mean, things are pretty great, and I'm happy, so whatever."_

 _Dean chewed his lip for a moment. "But when did you know that there was something more to your relationship?"_

 _"Well, I realized I had a thing for her after a few months, but I didn't want to do anything about it."_

 _"Scared it might mess up your friendship?" Dean asked, then mentally kicked himself for being too obvious._

 _"Yeah." Sam yawned. "And I was scared she might break all my limbs on the way out. Anyway, a month or two later things just got physical one night. Then she suggested we do friends-with-benefits."_

 _Dean held his cell phone away from his head for a second and groaned while rolling his eyes. Of course his little brother would stumble into that kind of luck. "Seriously? You had commitmentless sex with a babe thrown at you?"_

 _Sam chuckled, then replied, "Yeah, well it turned out to be more commitment than expected."_

 _"Kaylee?"_

 _"Actually, no. I started to fall for her before we found out she was pregnant," Sam explained as Dean peeked out the blinds to confirm that the Impala was still gone. "It's like that metaphor about turning the heat up on the pot of water with the frog. It just sort of sneaks up on you. The littlest things that she did made me feel better. It felt natural and infinite—like I could spend all my time with her no matter what we were doing because she's…. It's like I felt like I had a home, and it was wherever she was…. I didn't really get that until recently."_

 _Dean nodded even though no one could see him. Sam hadn't ever really experienced the security and comfort of having a real home. From six months old until he went to college, he'd only ever known motel rooms and occasional sleepovers at hunters' houses. Dean imagined that dorm life had provided some stability, but how much could you really feel connected to a place that was meant to be transitional?_

 _"I'm glad you found that," Dean told him._

 _"Thanks," Sam said. Dean could hear some action in the background, then Sam sighed. "I love them, but I wish I could have one fucking day where I sleep in until ten."_

 _"Sorry about calling so early."_

 _"Like I said, it's fine. I hope that helps with Cas."_

 _"Yeah, I think I get it." Dean rubbed the stubble on his cheek. "As thanks, I'll watch Tom and Kaylee when I get back. You can finally sleep in."_

 _Sam immediately replied, "I don't care if that town is overrun with vampires or zombies or werewolves—you're going to drop everything and drive non-stop until you get here."_

 _Dean laughed. "We'll see you in a few weeks."_

 _"Coward."_


	52. About a Boy

Dean reran Dylaniel's words in his head a few times before saying, "I-I'm sorry. I thought you said 'Castiel.'"

"I did," Dylaniel confirmed.

Dean's mouth anxiously tried to form words that his brain hadn't quite figured out yet. He was too confused by many aspects of the conversation, not the least of which was how Dylaniel could be so damn calm about this whole thing. The kid didn't seem to understand the absurdity of the situation.

"The robotic angel in the suit is your mom?" Dean asked again in the hopes of getting a different answer.

Dylaniel corrected, "Xe. Yes."

"That's crazy." Dean exhaled the words while shaking his head, but then his tone turned defensive. "That doesn't make any sense. He seems okay or whatever, but there's so much wrong there I don't even know where to begin."

Dylaniel's expression changed almost imperceptibly, but Kaylee and Tom knew him well enough to recognize that he was scowling at Dean.

"Dean, you're gonna want to back off." Tom stepped forward to get a little between Dean and Dylaniel. He wasn't expecting a fight to actually break out, but there was an element of uncertainty to this entire situation.

"He's the one saying that I'm…." Dean didn't actually know what he'd been told. If angels really didn't have a gender, maybe Castiel was in a woman. But completely aside from them possibly calling him gay, they were implying that he had a relationship with some emotionless angel... or at least that they'd had sex. Maybe it was an accident? He got drunk and Castiel was in some hot woman? He'd had plenty of drunken one-night-stands before. There had to be a reasonable explanation. "I'm not trying to be a dick, but I think there's gotta be a mistake or something I'm missing. First of all, in my time Cas is wearing a guy, and, secondly, he's not exactly Mr. Personality. So you can see why this is all coming a bit out of nowhere."

"Cas is maybe a little awkward at times, but he's just as complex and emotional as anyone," Kaylee commented.

Dean heard the 'he' and found it alarming. "You said 'he,' but Cas has been a woman," Dean countered. "I'm no expert on angels, but last time I checked humans still needed to fuck the opposite sex to have a kid."

"My xe took a female vessel, but it was temporary," Dylaniel explained as his cousins watched him for any tells.

Dean was scrambling to rationalize Cas only having a female body briefly. Could a vessel be destroyed? Was there an emergency? "It was temporary—like a fluke? We drank too much or it was a foxhole kind of situation?"

Dylaniel openly glared in a move that Dean found unsettling. The nephilim turned and nodded to Kaylee and Tom. "I'm going on rounds. You can call for me if you need something."

"Dyl, you—" Tom started, but he was already gone.

"Dammit." Kaylee collapsed into her chair in annoyance. She threw her hands up at Dean. "Really? You've got to be so touchy about this?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He stood up and paced. "You guys are feeding me all this stuff that's completely insane and I'm just trying to make sense out of it."

"You basically just asked him if he was an accident."

"I'm not trying to insult him," Dean said in his defense.

"That is a pretty fucked up thing to hear from a parent," Tom quietly commented.

"I'm not his parent!" Dean spun around as he shouted. He'd had enough of dealing with the other Dean's goddamn life. "I didn't fuck his mom or xe or whatever. I don't know what kind of sick, freak occurrence made that happen—"

Kaylee snapped, "You know what? Stop before I stop you!" Dean opened his mouth to talk, but she cut him off. Her expression had turned venomous. "Dean, we'll tell you what we're gonna tell you and you can believe it or not, but don't go telling us it's bullshit when you don't know. This isn't your time. This is our time and you need to remember that. You think this stuff with our uncles is insane? Well you can ask them tomorrow. In the meantime, have a little fucking composure. Dyl has seen his parents take enough grief. He doesn't need that shit from you."

Dean was shaking from shock, frustration, and being yelled at by someone he was beginning to think of as a friend. He was thoroughly confused by everything that was going on, but he did catch part of what she'd said. "I'm gonna see them tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "This'll be fucking great."

* * *

 _1/30/2011_

 _Dean fell to his hands and knees. The leader of the angels walked up behind him and grabbed a fistful of his hair. He pulled Dean upright into a kneeling position, then pressed the tip of his angel blade to Dean's sternum. Blood dripped from a gash on Dean's left cheek, his right arm was probably broken, and his angel blade had been lost in the brawl._

 _Cas had been similarly disarmed in the grossly unfair fight. It had been six against two, which would have normally triggered them to flee, but the group of angels had found some way to block Cas's ability to teleport. Unable to run, the result of the fight was largely inevitable with the only question being whether Dean would be taken alive or killed._

 _"Castiel." The leader, Ziniel, began stating the interim judgment. "For your crimes against Heaven, you will be imprisoned until true and fearsome judgment may be brought upon you—"_

 _Cas interrupted. "Please, spare him." His words were directed at their captors, but he was staring at Dean._

 _"We have explicit orders," Ziniel replied. "He will be taken to Michael."_

 _"You can't take him to Michael." Cas didn't know what Michael wanted with Dean, but he knew it was nothing good. The archangel had no concern for the welfare of humans. Whatever Dean was wanted for, his well-being was not going to be a factor at all. Maybe he'd be tortured for information regarding Sam, executed for all of the angels he'd killed, or used as a hostage in a game with stakes that were too high? "Please, I'm begging you to let him go."_

 _Cas's humility made several of the angels visibly uncomfortable. An angel begging was almost unheard of, but to plead for a human was unimaginable. The angel holding her blade to Cas's throat looked at Dean, then at Cas in confusion._

 _"You will be imprisoned for treason and you only ask about him?" Her voice was more curious than critical. "Why do you even care?"_

 _"If you take him to Michael, I'm sure he will be destroyed…. If he is destroyed, then I will be as well—beyond anything that Heaven could inflict on me directly." Cas pulled his gaze away from Dean, then stared at Ziniel with conviction. "I'm in love with him."_

 _The angels looked at each other with uncertainty. The suggestion that an angel could be in love was taboo. To some angels the idea was absurd, but to others it was offensive. Ziniel scowled and tugged on Dean's hair, making his eyes water._

 _Dean's jaw dropped and his lips moved, unable to form words. He'd been struggling with the impossibility of his feelings for months. It had been insane to think that Cas could ever have those thoughts too, so he had tried to bury his own. But Cas had confessed them... too late._

 _"Love is a human emotion. Our kind is above base emotions. You're just confused by your illness. You're wrong," Ziniel said as he bared his teeth in a showing of anger. The irony of his statements was lost in the wake of Cas's confession._

 _"Read my mind and tell me how wrong I am," Cas replied defiantly._

 _It was considered inappropriate for one angel to read another's mind unless given permission. This courtesy was even extended to hostile angels, though Cas had always taken the precaution of actively trying to shield his thoughts. But now he let down his guard slightly, just enough to allow his feelings for Dean to be displayed._

 _Curiosity got the better of the six angels. There was a painfully long pause while Cas's most personal confession was laid out on display for their captors... and Dean. Dean barely moved, but for a small trembling and watering eyes that bordered on tears. Hael looked at Dean for a few seconds, then moved her angel blade half an inch off of Cas's neck._

 _"It's no secret that you are sick. But I had no idea that you'd allowed yourself to be poisoned by these creatures," Ziniel hissed. "You disgust—"_

 _Ziniel pointed his blade at Cas to emphasize his point, but as soon as the angel blade was a foot away from Dean's heart Hael disappeared. Ziniel looked around in confusion for a moment before Hael's blade plunged through his back and out his chest._

 _There was a split-second pause while the four remaining angels realized what was happening. Hael had chosen sides and now each of them was being forced to do the same. The angel closest to her lunged at her, but another intercepted him. The remaining two entered the melee, each one trying to aid a different side. It only took a few quick swings before Hael and the two friendly angels were standing over their three dead siblings._

 _"You two should go before reinforcements arrive," Hael said as she turned away from the bodies to instead look at Cas. "We will tell them you escaped."_

 _"Why are you doing this?" Cas asked._

 _Her face was painted with disbelief at her own actions, but her lips flickered in joyful revelation. When she spoke, she nearly smiled. "They say that it's an abomination to love a human. We're supposed to be more than them. To love them would make us weak. But you are not weak." She turned from Cas to Dean. "You gain strength from your love for each other. That should be protected, not punished. If you both are to be killed for that... there is something wrong with Heaven, not you."_

 _"Thank you all." Cas nodded to the other angels._

 _"We may not be many, but you have some allies in Heaven," Hael told them. "Now go."_

* * *

 _They teleported back to the living room of Dean's cabin, him still kneeling in mild shock before Cas. He was completely speechless. Some angel had just read his innermost feelings and outed him. He was embarrassed beyond immediate comprehension, but it was also a relief. Being exposed was probably a small price to pay for sparing their lives, and also there was the unforeseen perk of the entire awkward event: Cas had said he was in love with him._

 _They had both had their feelings for each other brought out into the open. No more long nights lying in bed trying to decide whether to say anything. No more wondering whether Cas's borderline-intimate interactions were just an incomplete knowledge of customs or something more. It was exciting and terrifying all at the same time._

 _Dean stared up at Cas for a moment, scared to do anything that might be the wrong thing, but Cas smiled in a way that was strangely reassuring. Dean stood up slowly and shifted nervously._

 _"You're hurt," Cas observed. "Can I heal you?"_

 _Cas had never asked for permission to heal him before, but Dean understood that he was trying to be respectful of his confused feelings. Dean could feel the trickle of blood cooling on his left cheek. He nodded. Cas held Dean's right arm with his left hand, reached out and cupped Dean's cheek gently, healing the flesh below. It produced a delicate tingling sensation that made Dean close his eyes for a few seconds._

 _"Cas, I'm not sure what to do." He spoke with an out-of-character helplessness._

 _Cas tilted his head, indicating his thoughtful reflection on the situation. The familiar gesture made Dean feel safer, if not less vulnerable._

 _"Can I try something?" Cas asked._

 _Dean's pulse started to rise. He wasn't entirely sure what Cas was planning. No one ever knew what Cas was about to do and he knew the angel better than anyone in existence. Cas was fearless, passionate, and intelligent, but all of that was hidden below a calm exterior as level and unmoving as a frozen lake._

 _"Okay," Dean exhaled._

 _Cas's fingers slid back to interlace with Dean's dirty blonde hair. He stepped forward, pressing his lips against Dean's just as Dean finished taking in a startled breath. The first thing that Dean noticed was the softness of Cas's lips. He had assumed that for some reason guys must be rougher than women, but Cas's lips were some of the softest he'd ever felt._

 _There were things about Cas that were predictably not feminine, but that didn't bother him as much as he'd expected. Like when Dean moved one hand over Cas's shoulder to pull him closer—he'd never made out with someone almost his own height. Or when they kissed harder, their mouths opening slightly and Dean felt his chin drag across Cas's five o'clock shadow. The scratching sensation was surprising, both in its newness and in the excitement it produced in Dean's gut. He gasped, then gripped Cas tighter and him kissed deeper._

 _In recent weeks, Dean had occasionally wondered what it'd be like to kiss Cas. Knowing the two of them, he had expected it to be awkward and clumsy. He wasn't entirely wrong. Cas barely knew what he was doing, but that was okay. Dean was also out of his element. The thing he hadn't seen coming was that he didn't care that it was clumsy, that their noses bumped together, that Cas bit his lip a tad too hard, or that Cas didn't know what to do with his hands. It felt good._

 _Dean just went with it, trying not to overthink it. Instead he just felt it out. Somewhere in the excitement his instincts took over. In his eagerness he unconsciously moved them forward, backing Cas into a wall. They fumbled their way to the bedroom, knocking down a picture frame in the process. In their frenzy, he found himself tumbling backward onto his bed, pulling Cas with him by the collar of the tan trench coat. Without breaking from the kissing, Dean slid a hand up under Cas's suit jacket and pulled him closer. Then it happened._

 _When Dean pulled Cas down onto him, his erection rubbed against Cas's hip, but Cas's erection also pressed against him. Both of them were still fully clothed, but the feeling was unmistakable. Dean was completely distracted from their intimate moment. Cas's dick was sizable, like his own, and suddenly Dean felt entirely out of his depths. He had no idea what to do—well, he had some idea, but he wasn't ready to plow ahead into such new territory just yet._

 _Dean stopped kissing Cas, who had also given in to a more instinctual approach. Cas leaned in to kiss Dean's neck below the jawline and Dean reflexively tilted his head back to allow better access. He had begun grinding against Dean, making them both harder. Everything was happening so fast. Dean started to feel overwhelmed. He put a palm on Cas's chest and pushed up gently._

 _"Cas, hey—slow down," Dean said, causing Cas to immediately stop mid-grind, with their hard dicks still pressed between them. "I think we should take things slower than this."_

 _Cas pushed his upper body away from Dean and the bed, so that he could look Dean in the eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"_

 _"No! It's not that. I've just—I've never... done stuff with a guy." He felt like his stomach had knotted from just saying the words. The idea of going any farther conjured images of him having a full-on panic attack. "I'm gonna need a little time to wrap my head around this…. I don't want to fuck this up; not with you."_

 _"I'm fine with whatever you need."_

 _"Just some time," Dean reassured him. "Maybe taking one step at a time."_

 _"Can I still kiss you going forward?" Cas asked hopefully._

 _"Oh, fuck yes—but let me tell Sam about us before you start doing it around anyone else."_

 _"Okay. When are you going to tell him?" Cas didn't seem to appreciate just how large a gesture talking to Sam would be. The angel looked expectantly down at Dean, who swallowed hard and nodded to himself._

 _"I can do it," he said as both a reply and self-encouragement. "I can do it... once I can walk easier."_

 _"What do I do about this?" Cas indicated his own erection._

 _"You can use my shower," Dean suggested. Seeing Cas's confused expression he added,"You'll figure it out."_

* * *

 _"Hey, Sammy. Can I talk to you for a sec?" Dean asked as he entered his brother's cabin._

 _"Sure. What's up?" Sam was lounging in a chair reading a book to Kaylee, who was sitting on his lap. The Mysterious Stranger was far beyond the comprehension of an eighteen-month-old, but she entertained herself by playing with a toy dragon while Sam gently bounced her on his knee._

 _"So, um, I wanted to tell you…." Dean took a deep calming breath. "Cas and I are gonna try something out."_

 _"Okay. What?"_

 _He was struggling to find the right words. 'Dating' seemed silly. It wasn't like they were gonna go to the movies and share popcorn—things were too crazy right then and who knew if Cas even liked movies. Maybe he could try watching a movie with Cas one of the nights they were at the camp or in a motel room that had halfway decent cable—Dean cursed his anxious mind for trying to change the subject._

 _"Being a—well—more than friends."_

 _Sam put down his book and straightened up in his chair. Dean could feel his ears and cheeks turning red. He wouldn't have been surprised if he'd have died of a heart attack in that moment, waiting to see how Sam would react._

 _"You guys are, like, going to be a couple?" Sam's eyebrow raised and he smiled._

 _"I guess."_

 _"That's great! I'm happy for you two."_

 _"Really?"_

 _"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Sam's brow furrowed in confusion, then his smile started fading. Dean looked terrified. He was sweating and trembling slightly. Sam hadn't seen him so upset in about a year, during his last stress-and-Abyssal-induced panic attack. "Did you think I'd be upset?"_

 _"I don't know…. I thought that…. I'm not sure." Dean rubbed his face in a move that disguised him wiping some moisture from his eyes._

 _"Dean, I'm not Dad. I don't care if Cas is a guy or angel or whatever. I just want you to be happy." Sam was trying to be reassuring and firmly lay out his position._

 _"I just…." Dean's eyes darted around uncomfortably before settling on Sam's shirt. "I know you're not Dad, but I couldn't help thinking of what he'd say. He'd be so pissed at me."_

 _"Pissed at you? Seriously? I'm the King of Hell and am in a serious relationship with a demon." Sam held up Kaylee. "My daughter has horns. You think Dad would really be pissed at you?"_

 _"I'm probably gonna end up blowing a guy," Dean confessed weakly._

 _Sam nodded his head in acknowledgement of Dean's point. "Dad had really weird priorities." They both frowned for a few seconds, then Sam smiled at Dean excitedly. "When you called me that morning for advice on how to explain being—"_

 _Dean raised his hand to silence Sam, but it just made Sam smile more broadly._

 _"You're in love with Cas?" Sam asked in a combination of teasing and gleeful gushing._

 _"Fuck. I guess. I don't know, man. I mean, it's not like I'm going through all this"—Dean waved his arms around trying to indicate all the stress he'd been experiencing related to his feelings—"because I want to hit it and quit it."_

* * *

 _4/08/2017_

 _Hael teleported into the clearing between the cabins. She spotted Dean sitting on the floor of Sam and Ruby's porch. He was doing some repair work on the arm rail. A pile of partially burnt wooden beams had been discarded next to the steps. She walked up to Dean._

 _"How's it going Hael?" Dean asked without getting up._

 _"Hello, Dean. Everything is fine. I just wish to ask my brother for some advice. Where's Castiel?"_

 _"I'm not sure," Dean answered, but clenched his jaw and evaded Hael's gaze._

 _"Is something wrong?"_

 _"There's trouble in paradise," Sam said as he collected an armful of charred wood to relocate to a kindling pile._

 _"Cas and I had a fight. It's not a big deal," Dean said as he finished sanding an edge on the arm rail. He blew off the sawdust and leaned back against a support beam._

 _"What was the disagreement about?"_

 _Dean ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes briefly before answering. "Cas thinks I should have a kid before I'm too old."_

 _He was almost forty. Silver peppered his hair, though it wasn't obvious from far away. His face still had a beauty to it, but when he was tired lines of rough years were visible. Cas had recently started subtly healing Dean while he slept, trying to fight the normal aging process, but they hadn't been at it long enough to tell how effective that plan might be._

 _"And you do not want to have children?" Hael asked uncertainly as she took a seat on the porch beside Dean._

 _"It's not that. I just…. I don't want to cheat on Cas—that's not the right way to say it…. I know it's silly, but if he can't have a kid, then I don't know."_

 _He looked around to see if anyone else was in earshot. Sam had gone off to help Bobby teach Kaylee some of the basics of power tools over at Bobby's. Ruby and Tom were starting Alex out on Magic 101. The boy needed to learn some control or else they'd have another burnt-up porch to replace._

 _"It's my understanding that human male same-sex couples routinely have one partner be a biological parent," she commented._

 _"That's true, but just because it's normal doesn't mean it solves the problem…. I know I'm being stubborn." He sighed, then looked up at the partially cloudy sky. It would start getting dark soon and there was too much left to do. Reluctantly, he started packing up his toolbox._

 _"You want to have a child that is technically the offspring of you and Castiel?"_

 _"I know how insane that is." He was embarrassed by how childish he'd been. Cas was just trying to make him happy and he'd turned it into a fight because he was being stubborn._

 _After a long pause, Hael said something that completely derailed his self-loathing. "He could use this vessel."_

 _"What?"_

 _"Castiel and I are from similar enough choirs that we shouldn't damage each other's vessels to a significant extent. I believe that I could temporarily exchange vessels with him. You two could try to conceive. My vessel would not be perfectly compatible for him, but it should still function in many respects."_

 _Dean was a little taken aback by her generous offer. "That's nice of you…." He was not entirely sure the full implications of what she was offering. "But he's still an angel."_

 _"It's…." She looked a little uncomfortable with the topic. "It's technically possible for angels and humans to breed. It's just a blaspheme."_

 _"You're serious."_

 _He was stunned. Cas had said that there were only a fixed number of angels, created by God. Assuming that God stayed missing-in-action, every death of an angel was a permanent loss for their population. There were no baby angels and he'd never heard of a half-angel, so he had just assumed that the entire species was sterile…. Well, physically he'd be having a kid with Hael's soulless vessel, but there had to be something more to it than that if Heaven deemed it blasphemous._

 _"Any children you two have would be considered a crime against Heaven. Angels loyal to the laws of Heaven would try to kill it," she warned._

 _"How's that different than any other member of this family?"_

* * *

 _"Hi, Hael," Ruby said while briefly glancing up from some notes._

 _She was seated at their dining table double-checking Tom's calculations for a luck spell while Sam was making dinner. Dean coming over wasn't a surprise; he'd been promised free reign of their superior kitchen as compensation for helping with repairing the porch. Hael following him in was a little unusual though._

 _"Actually, that's Cas," Dean corrected while gesturing at the petite blonde woman to his right. Ruby and Sam both stopped what they were doing to stare._

 _"I'm temporarily exchanging vessels with Hael," Cas explained._

 _"I didn't think that was possible," Sam commented as he turned down the stove so that he could give the strange development his undivided attention._

 _"It's difficult and uncomfortable," Cas admitted._

 _"Then why are you doing it?"_

 _Dean couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "Cas and I are gonna try to have a kid."_

 _"That's great!" Sam grinned with giddy excitement._

 _"About damn time." Ruby nodded in approval, then thought of something. "Cas, have you ever been in a female vessel before?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Oh, sweetie, come with me." Ruby got up from the table, grabbed Cas's arm and started walking her out of the room. "We need to have a little talk girl-to-girl."_

 _"I understand how to copulate," Cas muttered defensively._

 _"It's so cute that you think that's all we're gonna talk about." Ruby patted Cas's back before kicking the bedroom door shut behind them._

 _"Maybe we should've stopped her?" Sam mused._

 _"He's like billions of years old. What could she possibly say to spook him?" Dean shrugged, then strolled into the kitchen. He started digging through the cupboards for supplies._

 _"Now I really want to know what they're talking about." Sam's brow furrowed in a mixture of embarrassment and mild concern._

 _Dean noticed the look on Sam's face, then eyed the bedroom door. "Ditto."_

 _Dean started seasoning a few steaks while Sam returned to working on his vegetarian hash._

 _"So, you're probably excited. Cas as a woman," Sam said while cutting up some fresh herbs. Dean made a noncommittal noise that surprised Sam into looking up. "What? No judgement—I just thought that you might miss women. It's been…."_

 _"About ten years," Dean filled in the blank. Sam nodded, impressed with how much time had passed since Dean had hung up his womanizer hat. Dean sighed, then continued, "Don't make fun of me, but I want to get this over with and get Cas back in his body as fast as possible…. It's gonna be weird."_

 _"But it's still Cas."_

 _Dean stopped fiddling with the steaks and looked at Sam. "Have you and Ruby ever messed around with her in a different body?"_

 _Sam frowned slightly at the thought, then smirked. "You still remember where to—" he started, but Dean threw a handful of steak seasoning at him, hitting him in the face._

* * *

 _Dean supposed Hael's vessel was pretty. It had blue eyes, but not nearly as vibrant a blue as Cas's male vessel. Her hair was blonde and fairly straight. She had full lips and a pair of D cups. A decade ago Dean would've happily taken a tumble with a woman who looked like her, but that was before he got married. It wasn't that he didn't find women attractive; it was just not want he was looking for anymore. He'd been with Cas, in the male vessel, for over eight years. That was what he'd become used to. Rationally he knew that Cas was still Cas regardless of the vessel, but it made him uncomfortable to be trying something so different from what they were used to doing as a couple._

 _They were in their bedroom. Cas stood a little awkwardly next to the bed. She didn't know how to start the process and he wasn't making it any easier. He was obviously nervous. When Cas leaned in for a kiss, Dean returned it with his lips chastely closed. He pulled back._

 _"I'm sorry, babe. It's just hard—" Dean rolled his eyes "—not as easy with you like this."_

 _"Do you want call it off?" Cas asked._

 _"No! No. I just need to get used to it." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be fine."_

 _"Is there anything I can do?"_

 _"Just please don't take this personally. I just see you one way in my head." Dean closed his eyes in demonstration. "I know you're not your vessel, but it's all I get to see of you—and with you in our friend's vessel... it's just… weird."_

 _"I understand. I have an idea." She went to the nightstand and drank the fertility elixir that Ruby had prepared for them, then turned out the lights. She moved back over to Dean and kissed him again._

 _He tried to imagine Cas's male vessel, which was made a harder by the female vessel being half a foot too short. But the few drops of the elixir that he tasted on her lips seemed to give him a small thrill. He couldn't tell if it was partially an aphrodisiac or if it was the excitement of realizing they were really about to try to have a kid, but either way he appreciated it._

 _They each started undressing themselves to avoid bringing more attention to Cas's new body. Dean managed to find some lube in the dark and started stroking himself hard. When he was ready he climbed on top of Cas, who had lay down on the bed._

 _Looking down Dean could see Cas's bare breasts and long blond hair in the dim light. He grabbed her and flipped her over onto her hands and knees._

 _"Should I—" Cas began, but her voice was jarringly feminine._

 _"Cas, I love you, but please don't talk right now." Dean cringed internally with guilt, but he pushed it from his mind. After a few quick strokes, Dean lined himself up and pressed into her. Cas was so tight that for a second Dean worried he'd missed his mark. In the darkness he scowled at the idea that Sam's teasing might've been right, but then Cas pushed back against him in encouragement._

 _Dean grabbed her hips, which were a little too full, but that didn't stop him. He looked up towards the ceiling and tried to imagine Cas's wings rocking back and forth with each thrust. In hindsight, he probably should've tried harder to make Cas cum, but for their first time having hetero-sex, he just wanted to break the ice. He pressed into her hard as he finished._

 _Afterward they lay together in the dark while waiting for Dean to recover. The silence stretched on for several minutes before Dean laced his fingers between Cas's. He held her hand to his lips and kissed it._

 _"I'm sorry. I wish I could be more for you," Dean said softly._

 _"It's okay. I know how hard you're trying."_

 _"I love you, and what you're doing for us." Dean smiled in the darkness. "For our family."_

* * *

 _Six months later Dean ran through the center of the camp, threw open Sam and Ruby's front door, then shouted, "Cas is pregnant! We're gonna have a kid!"_

 _He excitedly hopped up and down as soon as he got inside their home. Sam rushed over and tackled him with a hug, accidentally knocking the two man-children over into a coat rack._

 _During the pregnancy Dean ended up doting over Cas more than anyone had expected. It was partially from anticipation, but also it was his chance to show affection that didn't require physical intimacy. Cas hadn't left the camp since they had started trying to conceive for fear that the strain on the incompatible vessel might further complicate the pregnancy. Dean occasionally would visit army's bases for a day or two each week, but for the most part he diligently focused on his family._

 _There was almost no information available on nephilim. Historically, there had only been five documented cases, and all that was known about them was largely an oral history from the group that had killed them._

 _The most well-known nephilim were the twin brother and sister, Seraph and Sophia. In spite of the policy of angels not to document nephilim, the siblings had managed to make it into an old hunters' codex. Their entry in the codex didn't describe their angelic mother or the fact that more than half of their known kills were of angels, but those details were provided by Cas. It did, however, describe them as hunters from the mid-sixteenth century with a reputation for speed, guile, and resilience against injuries. They were the longest surviving nephilim, both killed in battle by angels at the age of seventeen._

 _With so little information, there was a certain amount of new terrain being covered. The most surprising aspect was that the pregnancy progressed faster than an entirely human one. Cas could feel kicking and movement by the eighth week. Going into the fifth month, she looked like she was almost full term._

 _Cas was at twenty-five weeks when she went into labor. Dean was sleeping when he was woken up by her clutching his wrist. Cas was lying next to him, eyes clenched, holding her belly._

 _"Cas, babe!"_

 _He touched her back and recognized the tension in her body as being a possible contraction. After a few seconds, she relaxed slightly, releasing his wrist._

 _"I'm gonna go get help. I'll be back in less than a minute—I promise."_

 _Cas nodded without opening her eyes. He kissed Cas's hand, then ran out of their cabin. Once he got within earshot of Sam and Ruby's cabin he yelled for help. He didn't bother waiting for anyone to get out of their groggy stupor. Ruby was home that night and didn't sleep, leaving her practically on call. The light in her and Sam's bedroom turned on as Dean started running back to Cas._

 _From the very beginning, Cas's labor was incredibly intense. There was no gradual increase, so despite arriving during only the second contraction, Ruby's expression turned grim. She sat down on the bed next to Cas and pushed some of the hair out of Cas's face. Her vessel was sweating and trembling. Even between contractions, she was having difficulty speaking. Ruby had taken up the role of midwife since she'd given birth twice, but she chewed on her lower lip. She turned to look at Dean._

 _"Pray for Hael."_

 _Dean went out into the living room and hastily prayed. Nothing happened. Cas cried out from the other room. He prayed again, and once more nothing happened. Dean grabbed a lamp off the desk and threw it at the wall, but it stopped just before impact. Sam lowered the lamp to the floor as he entered the living room and looked at Dean with concern._

 _"It's too soon," Dean managed through his panic, then anxiously started pacing._

 _"We don't know that," Sam said, but his words didn't seem to register. In frustration, Sam telekinetically grabbed Dean to stop him from moving. Dean fidgeted, then looked at Sam, who gave his older brother a hug. "I know it's scary, but you've got to calm down and just be there for Cas."_

 _Hael arrived an hour later. He had been resting the borrowed vessel at their Richmond base when he sensed the prayer. He tried to fly directly there, but he had difficulty thanks to the incompatible vessel and trace amounts of an anti-flight aura around the Great Lakes area. It took several tries, but eventually he was able to get through the difficult patch to the camp._

 _The entire labor was confusing and distressing to Dean. He sat beside his husband, who was trying to give birth at a week that by human standards was dangerously premature, while his friend was wearing his husband's body and trying to assist. It was upsetting on so many levels, but he simply held onto Cas and tried to be as comforting as possible._

 _After forty-two hours of labor, their son was born. Hael cleaned up the baby, wrapped him in a soft blanket, then handed him to Dean. Once the female vessel was healed, Hael promptly transferred vessels with Cas._

 _Dean had been transfixed by his son, so when he eventually looked up at the two angels, he wasn't entirely sure which one was which. Cas, in his male vessel wrapped an arm around Dean and kissed him. Tears started falling down Dean's cheeks as they kissed._

 _They looked down at their son. His wisps of hair were a bit blonder than Dean's, possibly reminiscent of the female vessel. But his eyes—his eyes were the intense light blue that had only ever existed in Cas's eyes._


End file.
